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      Help contribute, donate via PayPal or join with a monthly Patreon contribution.   01/01/17

      To help raise funds I've introduced a monthly contribution option called Pateron. This service allows you to pledge a monthly contribution plus allows me to offer you some rewards for your contribution. If you have any questions you may PM me. If you'd like to make that contribution please click on the image below:      
    • CMiller

      NEWS: Discord Server & Clubs (aka Groups) are back!   08/19/17

      Hello everyone I'm back with a couple big updates! Firstly we now have a Discord server, this is a real-time chat messaging client you can run on your phone, desktop, or anywhere. It's a pretty powerful desktop application that enables people to chat together, and with multiple channels you can find people interested in what you're interested in. If you don't already have a Discord account it's pretty easy to get one, just click the following invite link to get started: https://discord.gg/U93PYnB Secondly I'm proud to announce the return of Groups, it's been renamed to Clubs and is now available here: https://muscle-growth.org/clubs/. This system is entirely user generated and allows users to create groups of their own based on any subject they want. Go ahead and try it now, visit the link above to get started if you want to create or join a group!   As always thank you to all of our donators and Patreon contributors who keep the forums going! 

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Found 223 results

  1. The Company Chapter 2

    Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13680-the-company-chapter-1/ The Company Chapter Two He felt strange. He felt exhausted and empowered at the same time. The jacuzzi had stopped bubbling, and the UV lights were turned off. He felt different. He touched his shoulders and chest. Disbelief and excitement mixed in his mind, as he felt the sensation of hard, well-defined muscles. His hard, well-defined muscles. An hour ago he had been a wrinkled, fragile and shy octagenarian from a conservative mid-western town. To begin with, he wasn't fragile anymore. He remained in the hot liquid, and tried to focus. Bill, his PT, returned, cheerful and encouraging. The hot and damp air caused Bill's polo shirt to stick to his torso, revealing Bill's aesthetic, but not exaggerated, physique. He could feel desire arise. Before the treatment, he had felt impressed by Bill, and trusted Bill as a professional, and felt protective in the way he often did towards younger men – and most men were younger these days. Now he felt confused. Bill helped him up, out of the water, but, unlike the case when he entered the jacuzzi, he didn't need much help when he return out of it. Powerful legs stepped the metal stairs. A big hand clenched the handrail. The dressing gown didn't fit anymore, and Bill joked about it. By the sound of it, the joke wasn't new. No longer surrounded by liquid, he felt taller, and he felt unaccustomed to his new improved physique. He adjusted his stance, and tried to find a suitable posture. He felt more confident. It felt good. Bill handed him a plastic cup of mineral water. "You are probably dehydrated because of The Treatment, sir. You need water and sodium. This is ordinary mineral water. Do you feel dizzy?" He drank three glasses of water. The dizziness faded. Bill listened to his heartbeat with a stethoscope, and had his blood pressure measured. "Your clothes will be tailored for your new measurements, sir. Will you please step into the changing room?" His old clothes hang there. They were obviously too small now. Then he turned to the full-length mirror. Lust erupted. A wave of arousal surged through him. He noticed that he didn't need his glasses anymore, and the face, that stared back at him in the mirror, could have been drawn by his favourite erotic artist: Handsome, playfully charming in a masculine way. The face of men he never dared to approach. A powerful muscle rolled between his strong neck and his bulging shoulders – his nephew called it traps. The chest of a hero. Narrow waist – extremely so – contrasting to his broad shoulders and wide chest. Six hemispheric tiles formed a washboard. The wave of arousal intensified. The mirror image stared in disbelief, its blue eyes boyishly innocent in a baby face empowered by mature masculinity. Full lips. Cute nose. Dimples. And that face placed over the mature muscularity of a bodybuilder of – let's say – twenty-five years' experience. He couldn't believe it was his own reflection, but his reason told him it was. His mind drowned in rapture – he didn't know for how long – and he could feel his cock spasm pleasantly, and more powerfully than ever before. He opened his eyes. One hour ago, he would have been devastated by embarrassment of letting this happen in the sight of Bill, but now he only felt mildly sheepish. The mirror was stained by large spots of his own cum, which now slowly trickled down the surface of the mirror. "I'm sorry for that." Bill only smiled leniently: "In this profession I have seen everything, already. You are not the first one." He nodded towards a spray can of detergent in a corner. Without further ado, Bill used a measuring tape which had been there all the time. While Bill did what he had to do, the customer changed his stance and posture, looked at his reflection, and suddenly noticed a framed reproduction hanging in the changing room: It was one of Tom's drawings. An almost naked, but very confident, muscular young man having his measures taken at a tailor's, while an obese man, waiting for his turn, looking embarrassed. His cock awaked again. For which time, now? This time it didn't spew. Bill was soon finished with his job: "Oh, and another thing: In order to protect the anonymity of our guests, each guest is given a username during their remaining stay, by which they will be known by other guests. Do you have any suggestion, sir?" He had been told about the usernames before. "Is 'Tom' already taken?" "I'm afraid it is, sir. That is a very popular choice." He thought a few seconds. "What about 'Brett', then? Is that taken?" "No, I will immediately register the username 'Brett'." "Thank you, Bill." "Your gymwear and your chosen attire – I see that you have chosen the biker option (a classic one!) – will be delivered to your room within two hours. Many customers take a nap after The Treatment. Other guests take a shower. I am sure, that you will find a way to spend the waiting time. Before you go, will you please chose your underwear from the stand, and one of the big size bathrobes? None of the underwears were smaller than size L. Some of the styles were unfamiliar to him. Why not test something new? He finally found a leather jockstrap, took a look in the mirror and felt how his cock began to throb inside, rubbing itself against the leather. He felt dazed. This wasn't happening? The being in the mirror wasn't himself? Too good to be true? He girded himself with a very large white terrycloth bathrobe, and found a heap of large rubber slippers. Thus attired, he walked through the corridors. Brett walked through the corridors. He smiled. It felt unreal, but in a good way. Brett squeezed his manhood through the terrycloth and the leather. Brett needed a nap. And a shower. While he waited for his biker gear.
  2. Muscle Worshippers: Chapter 1 of 14

    Hey guys, I wrote this novel a couple of years ago and for a while it was on sale at Amazon, Smashwords etc. I've decided to remove it from sale and make it available here in instalments. That doesn't change the fact that it is Copyright Lawrence Jackson 2015. Hope you enjoy it - please give me any kind of feedback you want! Dedicated to the Xhamster user known as 'snuffed' and Tom/Nico/Stephan aka 'Skinnythick' and everyone else who gives a little of themselves online. 1 Stephan Friday, August 1st The plumber said: 'If I'd known this was going to happen, I'd have stopped by the gym this morning.' But he had a nice body, all the better for not being toned. He was in his mid-to-late twenties: his belly and upper body were fleshy — I ran a hand over his left tit, swirling sweat across his fleshly nipple with my thumb — but it was clear enough to me he played footie every Sunday. His hairy thighs, as he braced himself for my pumping first, were muscled like an athlete's. 'You're so fit,' I told him. He smiled and looked shyly down at himself. 'Fuck off.' I finished unzipping his overalls. The heat coming off him was like a radiator. 'I really shouldn't be doing this,' he said, shimmying the overalls to his ankles. 'I'm proposing to my bird next Sunday.' I promised him she wouldn't mind, and began massaging his cock. 'There are some things,' he said, widening his stance so I could go at him more vigorously, 'you just can't speak to your other half about.' 'Tell me about it,' I said, glancing at our apartment's front door. Tom wasn't due back until the evening, later even if it was 'one of those days' at the surgery, so put this one down to a gay man's intuition. 'She talks about getting into bed with another girl,' he said, 'but just to make me cum, and that. She'd pull one of her faces if she could see me now.' He put his hands flat on his hips, and watched as his dick got fully hard in my hand. 'What else does your, eh, fiancé do to make you cum?' He looked at me. 'Getting a bit personal, aren't we?' 'That's my favourite thing to get,' I said. I nibbled his sweaty chest, kissed his hairy belly, licked his dick questioningly. 'She's alright,' he said, pushing my face down onto his dick so that my glasses jolted halfway down my nose. I let them sit there, and got on with the business of deep-throating that intensely warm cock. His whole body was hot from the overalls. I bounced my nose off his crotch, sniffing droplets of sweat from his short and curlies, the saltiness of his pork gliding smoothly to the back of my throat. 'She likes to go on top once in a while. She watches porn with me — well, she did it once when we were in a hotel in Budapest, and she seemed to really get off on it. She really might go to bed with me and another girl, if the circumstances arose. Oh yeah, mate, that is reem.' 'Mmm,' I said, swallowing a gobbet of pre-cum that spoke louder than words. 'And maybe a year down the line, or maybe when the kids are in school at least, when we're really settled,' he said, 'I could maybe buy her a strap-on. Have you seen that online? Pegging, they call it. Stupid bloody name.' I took the cock out of my mouth and kept wanking it, looking up at his expression. 'You got time to do that today?' 'I've got to be in Muswell Hill at three thirty for an estimate on a wet room,' he said, drawing in a thoughtful air through his teeth. 'How long does it take to set up?' 'No time,' I said. 'Turn around.' 'Fucking hell,' he said, following my instruction. 'My lucky day, innit?' He was bent over and spreading his cheeks for me, when I heard a sound outside. Ex-copper's instincts now. That was definitely Tom's car, the way the engine did that thing that I've been nagging at him about getting fixed. I hesitated, then stuck my tongue up the plumber's sweaty plug-hole to play for time. 'Oh fuck, yes,' he said. 'Do you need me to get at a particular angle for you? You're such a tall bastard. Six four, is it?' 'Six eight,' I said, staring at his arsehole, bubbled with my spit. Outside, I heard car doors slam. Three floors up. Tom would walk it, he always did. It took almost exactly five minutes. 'Look,' I said. 'I've just remembered something.' 'Oh yeah,' he said, 'you need lube for a thing like this, don't ya?' 'It's more than that,' I said, getting to my feet. He turned to look at me, worried. 'Well, rubbers, of course. It's been a while, but it's not actually my first time, sunshine.' 'No, something bigger than that.' I saw his eyes widen in excitement. 'One of those big rubber dildo things?' I ran an anxious hand through my curly blonde hair. 'It's my boyfriend.' 'Whatever you say, fellah,' he said, grinning and wanking his cock. 'Extra very well endowed, is he?' 'Funny you should say that,' I said, 'but the important thing is that he doesn't know you're — we're — he's not actually due back till later, but -' 'Oh, shit, say no more,' said the plumber. 'I've been here before, enough times.' He pointed at the floor. 'Hence the zip-up overalls.' I willed myself to remember the order of the Kings and Queens of Britain. My hard-on resisted till I reached the 1920s when I really had to concentrate. By the time I could bear to look back at him, he was fully dressed and writing his number on the back of a card. 'Escort me to your maintenance task,' he said, handing it over. 'You do have one, don't you?' Of course. Fucked if I could remember what it was, though. The key went in the lock. I went cold, looked for my jumper, and the thought leaped out at me. 'The radiator,' I said, as the door opened. 'Excellent,' said the young man, with only a glance toward the new arrival. He had his biro out again already. 'Well, here's my charge for call-out, stripping down, tackling the airlock. Of course, if the problem persists, call me out again at a convenient time and I'll see what else we can do.' My heart was racing. 'Of course,' I said. 'Can you take a card, or -' 'That'll be fine.' I handed over £50, licking my lips with the taste of his fuck-chute till on the tip of my tongue. He smiled that broad smile and I nearly got a tent in my jogging bottoms all over again. 'See you.' 'See ya, mate!' Tom stood in the doorway, watching the plumber leave. 'Well done. I thought neither of us would ever organise that.' 'Time on my hands,' I said, thinking about where my fingers had just been, and wiping unobtrusively them on my jumper. 'Well, yes,' Tom said, frowning. 'I wasn't expecting you to be home...' He tailed off and looked back into the stairwell. 'Look,' he said, to somebody out there, 'this is silly. You'd better come in.' The door creaked open and a young man in jeans and hooded top came in, swinging a camera case. With his bottle glasses, bristling moustache and tightly knotted tie he looked faintly intellectual, but with that dumb look that comes with the heady uncertainty of imminent sex. I smiled at him, to put him at his ease, and he smiled back, perhaps to put me at mine. It was a moment of wild incomprehension and at the same time, perhaps, total understanding. 'You were going to...' I looked back at Tom, who was squatting on the arm of the sofa. In his smart office trousers, his big bazonger was perfectly delineated, and faintly tumescent as well. 'Yes,' he said. 'Dean and I were making conversation at work.' 'Right,' I said. 'We were talking about you,' Tom said. 'I see,' I said. 'And naturally that led to inviting him back for...' 'It did, in fact,' Tom said. 'I was telling him about what you've been getting up to this past year.' Ouch. 'No,' Tom said, seeing my face. 'Don't feel bad. That's what I realised, in my conversation with Dean. That it's good. We should both be doing whatever we want. It'll make us happy.' 'Right,' I said, pulling on my jumper. Tom forced a smile. 'Right,' he said. He looked at Dean. 'Do you want a coffee?' 'Sure,' said Dean. 'Everything okay?' 'I'll get the coffee,' I said, patting him on the shoulder. 'Milk? Sugar?' 'You sure?' Tom looked concerned. 'You two get started,' I said, not quite sure what I was saying, and walking towards the door, turning my head, I saw my boyfriend turning to the stranger and shrugging off his coat. The stranger put down his bag and took off his jacket. I noticed a little staff card in a lanyard round his neck. So the pair of them were both GP's at the same surgery. Trust Tom to meet someone so entirely innocently, after all my debaucheries of the past year. The stuff that's got me thrown out of the police force. The stuff that's wrecked my life. I stood in the doorway, staring at the coffee pot. I could hear them kissing and gasping with the novelty of it. I could hear them undoing a belt. I closed the door, filled the kettle, put it on to boil. I opened the door a crack, spied on the pair of them. I wanted to see the junior doctor's reaction to my boyfriend's huge member. Dean was unzipping his camera bag, while Tom had his hands up inside his starched office suit and was pinching his nipples. Dean took out a huge black camera and turned it on Tom, ordering him to strip. His words vanished behind the hissing of the coffee coming to the boil. I just saw Tom slowly undoing his shirt, dropping his trousers to his ankles. His raging bulge twitched like a black mamba in a sandwich bag. Dean knelt at his feet and carried on snapping. I got my dick out of my trousers and started wanking. The coffee began to hiss and issue steam. Tom took the camera and snapped Dean as he tugged Tom's juicy pink sausage out of his grey, custom-issue y-fronts. Dean played up to it in a practised way, marvelling at the big purple head, the way he could get one hand gripped around it on top of the other. He wanked and sucked on it, spit flying all over the kitchen floor in his enthusiasm. The coffee pot gurgled, and so did I. I pumped my fist faster. Tom and Dean snogged one another, one small dick pressed against a giant, kneaded and ground together. I couldn't help noticing Tom had one eye on the kitchen door. I turned away and served up the coffee, hand trembling. Tom looked excited, slightly drunk — sexy as fuck, of course — but did he look happy? Or just pretending? Whose benefit was this for, exactly? Was I really thinking those things, though, or was I thinking: Fuck, Fuck, Gotta Fuck, Two hot guys getting off in the living room, gotta fuck, gotta Fuck, gotta FUCK FUCK FUCK. (I've come to realise this is the theme song to my days.) I took the coffee in, and the two men broke away. 'Uh, maybe it's not the time for a drink after all, mate,' Dean said, wiping the steam from his glasses lenses. 'Leave it on the table,' Tom said, 'but don't forget to use the coasters.' The doorbell rang. 'I'll get that,' I said, my voice almost lost in my mouth. It was the plumber, of course. 'You alright, big fellah?' he said, looking up at me. 'I got talking to the bloke in specs while he was waiting in the hall. Says he's heard your fella's got a huge dick and loves fucking arse.' I nodded shyly, and welcomed him in. 'Do you want a coffee?' I said. He considered. 'Nah,' he said, rubbing his chin and looking at the couple writhing on the sofa. 'Got that Muswell Hill job, ain't I? Alright, you two lovebirds, who wants to take a straight boy up the arse, and who wants to photograph it?' He was very clear that they shouldn't get a shot of his face, but in the end, of course, the pair of them did: a huge splash. Even the plumber managed to spunk himself on the cheek. I had a wank while they were all three locked together, but for some reason I myself couldn't cum until I was looking at the pictures later on Dean's Tumblr. And I thought about this. Afterwards, over lunch, Tom surprised me: 'I think we ought to have a trial separation.' I laughed. 'That's just what I was going to say,' I said. 'You're driving me round the bend. Making me want new things.' 'Today, all I wanted was you. But I also wanted to fuck everything. I'm not sure I can square it.' He pushed his chair away from the table. 'Maybe it'll be easier if we're both single. We can see more of each other.' He was rubbing his tits through his cum-stained work shirt. 'No. We need to be apart. I'm bad for you. I make you do things you don't want to do.' 'I'll do whatever you want,' he said. He stood up and stood next to me, nuzzling my shoulder with his crotch, where a hard-on was swelling. 'Exactly,' I said. 'I'm not right in the head. I'm addicted. I need to get myself cleaned up, and in the meantime, you need to become you again.' He unzipped and took it out. The dick that had first captivated me when I saw it online. Mr11AndAHalf, Wimbledon. 'I don't want us to get cleaned up,' he said. 'I want us to get completely covered in sweat and cum and piss.' It was still only soft. The temptation was just as massive as his meat-stick. I stood up, stooped, and kissed him lightly on the lips. 'Shush,' I said. 'We both need some time away from sex. I'll go and pack a bag.' 'But where can you go to get away from sex? Who will you be staying with?' he asked me. 'Slutpig93, Musclelad2000 or FatCockStr8Slut?' All of them old friends. Actually, Mum and Dad weren't that surprised to see me. 'You'd gone quiet,' Mum told me, over a cup of tea in the kitchen. 'I knew something was up.' 'I don't exactly get in touch as often as I should anyway!' I confessed. 'This was different,' she said. 'Do you want a biscuit? I've got your favourites.' My favourites are Ginger Crunch Creams, of course. I'd forgotten all about them and suddenly wham, there they are, just when I need them most. I'm eating one now, sitting on my old bed, looking out of my old window. DulwichVillage. Dead centre of normality and peace. Where the net curtains twitch all day, where there are still red telephone boxes and milkmen. The place I waited eighteen years to escape. Well, another eighteen years on and I'm grateful for it. I can take all the peace it can throw at me. Only I had a weird experience at the library, and it rattled me. Mum had some books to take back. Margery Allinghams and Delia Smiths. I needed the walk, as the summer light died on the air and the green leaves rustled overhead. What, I thought, could be more normal, more calming, than the library. Dulwich Village Library has the atmosphere of a chapel. It has the serenity of an attic room. At six o'clock in the evening, when the heat of the day was at its highest, I witnessed an insane couple go to the Self Help section and begin heavy petting. I mean, I've seen some stuff. I've done some stuff. Going public was always a big thrill for me. How can I forget, for instance, walking along the South Bank at one in the morning and getting my knob sucked overlooking the river, a string of coloured lights overhead, and us in the shadow of a tree. Cruise ships slowly passing up the river, playing Ricky fucking Martin, and I'm living La Vida Loca myself with my dick deep down the guy's throat, his headphones round his collar. That's where the queers go, isn't it, that's where we do it: anywhere we like. But I don't think of straight couples doing it, and not in broad daylight for god's sake, and not in a place like DulwichVillage, where Radio 4 is considered slightly common. But there he was, arse like two bowling balls, arms exploding from his t-shirt. Reminiscent, in fact, of a cage fighter who's swallowed a rugby player, and his blonde girlfriend with her legs open for his finger. It was like they'd been specially cast to perform for us. It would have been rude not to look. In any case, I instinctively fell into the role of security guard. When the senior librarian running the library came over on some errand or other, I coughed as low and as loud as I could, in that universal language for 'Put your cock away'. The public pornstar glanced around at me, with an evil sort of smile. Then he knelt down, lifted the girl's skirt, and put his face right in there. The senior librarian actually spluttered when he saw it, and I'm not sure I didn't too. He looked at me, or up at me, of course. I smiled, sweetly. 'They're not with me,' I said, in that special voice we use in libraries. I wanted to hear the noises they were making together. I wanted to see how much further they would take this. I wanted to get my dick out and wank it. Jesus, it was hard. Like I'd starved myself for a week and then someone had just walked in with a big plate of steak. I checked nobody was watching, and slowly began to fuck the books at groin level, nudging my sweaty, precummy, nylon-tracksuit-wrapped cockhead in between the spines of hardback encyclopaedias. Just then I heard a sharp intake of breath, and my head whipped around. It was the junior librarian, a bloke in his twenties. He must have been sent over to sort out the couple in the book stacks, more's the pity. I would have liked the little fellah to have sorted me out first. He was much more my type than the steroid fiend with snake eyes and tight trousers. Textbook clean-cut straight boy: clean fair hair in a trendy yet somehow too-soft quiff. Not unlike Daniel Radcliffe in looks and demeanour. Nicely ironed polo shirt (pretty sure Mum did that for him). Slender and well groomed, a couple of colourful wristbands with charities and festival names printed on them. He'd just taken in for the first time the scene I'd been enjoying , and his eyes were starting out of his head. He'd never seen the like. God, but he licked his lips at the sight, without realising he was doing it, I think. He was so brimful of milky innocence, my heart leapt in my chest. He even gave a little embarrassed smile and looked away, busying himself with a carousel of cheap romances. What is the impulse in us to take that innocence and ruin it irrevocably? I turned my attention back to the boy and girl in their own little world, but my mind was on that librarian. I knew he was watching the scene. I wondered what he was thinking. Was he envying them? Nervous? Had he done something like that? Had he actually been with a girl? It was like when I used to watch straight porn, and I realised I was fantasising about the men who watched it, as much or more so than the guys who were in it. Had he watched porn? Did he like a wank? How did he look when he came? The man and woman were aware of him watching now. They threw him little glances. I looked to see how he was taking it. My dick had dislodged the books permanently now so that they gave me no purchase. I was well hidden by a Romance carousel and some magazine shelving. Keeping everybody very carefully in view, and hoping the police weren't actually on their way (ex-colleagues! fuck!), I reached into my trackie bottoms and put my hand around my dick. I gave it a slow caress. My knobhead was a sticky mess of precum and sweat. I withdrew the hand and, not knowing what else to do with it, reached inside my vest and wiped it across my chest. I felt the print of my hand on my tit like a warm, glowing smear of UV paint. My dick was crying out for some more, but I decided to play it casual. I wanted to see what the librarian did. I actually saw him, thinking himself unobserved, reach into his chinos and rearrange his dick. Hard-on. Bingo. I watched him walk back, hard dick tucked away so that nobody knew it was there but me. All I wanted to do then was put a hand on his chest and say, 'Excuse me, lad, I've got reason to think you're sporting a hard-on in public. Come on, then, let the dog see the rabbit.' I didn't want sex at that point. I wanted to awake something in him. He walked into the scene, as if it wasn't happening. He'd obviously decided on a softly-softly approach. He began slowly putting away the books. He was so near me, I could smell the styling mousse in his hair. My dick asked me to take it in hand again, and this time I obliged. I wanked as slowly as I could force myself, looking back and forth from him to the couple, my hand sliding all the way up to my balls, drawing my foreskin right back from my throbbing, slobbery cockhead, then slowly sheathing it again hiding it in my first, squeezing it with my index finger, as the couple played up further and further to their new spectator, and he pretended more and more that they weren't there. The girl was licking the guy's cock through his jeans, when the boy obviously decided he'd had enough, but before he could confront them, he seemed to look to me for strength. I saw in him then, all the desire he was resisting, all the lust he was forcing down to the pit of his soul. I saw how far he wanted to go with a girl like her, and I thought how much further I could take him. I tried not to register any change in expression as I spunked hard into my fist. As the cum dribbled through my fingers, I watched the most bizarre scene. I can't quite bring myself to put it down on paper now. I wonder — why were they there; how come it was when this lad was on duty, this perfect mirror for their dirty goings-on. When it was all over, I did my bit and defended him to his manager. I mean, a kid like that, against a beast like that, he did what any of us would do. And after it was over, I went to the counter, my heart crashing in my chest, borrowing books that I've already forgotten the names of. 'Are you okay?' I asked him. He looked wounded. He shot me something like a glare. 'I'll be okay.' 'That prick deserves to be picked up,' I told him, 'and I'll tell you from my own extensive experience, it's only a matter of time before it happens.' 'I'd like to be there when it does,' he said. 'You'll need to fill out a form if you want to borrow books today.' My hand shook as I followed his instructions. I could smell the clean, soapy aroma of his body, and dried sweat in his clothes and hair too. 'You're stronger than him in all but the obvious way,' I told him, drinking in his slender, boyish physique. 'Thanks,' he said, and smiled. 'I've always thought that was enough.' 'For most people, it's more than enough,' I said. He let out a long sigh, looked at the form, looked up at me. 'Thanks very much, Stephan,' he said, and extended a hand for me to shake. It fitted into my palm and felt almost weightless. I decided he might be offended by a vigorous pump, so I just squeezed it and smiled, leaving the library without any of the books I had been due to borrow. My heart went out to him like a ray of light. But when it came to it, I let the whole scene play out like I was watching on a screen. Why didn't I step in? I've spent the last fifteen years breaking up fights and calming down tensions. Why didn't I intervene? I think I knew, deep down, that I couldn't involve myself in that, whatever it was. It was too hot, too perfect, for all concerned. It was important for all of us. I've cum three times again tonight thinking about it. And I keep trying to see things from the point of view of Beauty and the Beast and am just left with mystery. What's their game? What were they trying to unlock in that beautiful young man? And did they succeed?
  3. Ophiucus Meets Alabaster

    Author's note: Hello everyone. First story on here. I was reading about the 13th zodiac symbol, Ophiucus "the serpent-bearer", and thinking about what a perfect overwrought-fantasy smut name it is. A couple hours later I had written this, and figured I might as well share. Enjoy I was sitting on the front porch of my cabin when he entered the clearing. Fuck me, he was a sight. I hadn't hiked into town in a few weeks and this beautiful specimen was just what I needed. A pale, shirtless giant of a man. He was tall, probably 6'7", broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. The kind of big-boned guy where his abs seem to suck in under his huge ribcage. His white-blond hair was cropped short, and ice blue eyes regarded me with a familiar hunger as he approached me. He wasn't hugely muscled, but had perfect proportions and was completely shredded. I admired the way he rippled as he walked, his muscles bunching and flexing under his skin as his set his pack down on the porch. His dark shorts hung loosely on his hips and no doubt would have trouble staying up if not for a lifter's ass that I knew would accompany his strong legs. I stood to greet him and extended a hand. He smiled dazzlingly to shake, offering a cheesy "Mr. Ophiucus, I presume?" His grip was politely firm, and I could feel the telltale callouses of a man who wasn't afraid of the gym. Striations appeared on his delts and pecs as he pumped my hand. Up close I could see his bare torso was hairless and glistening with the slightest sweat. I had a feeling he knew why I was out here, why I valued my privacy, but he was pressing all my buttons. Fuck, why not let myself have a bit of fun. "I'm afraid you have me at a disadvantage. I don't get much company out here. What brings you to my humble abode?" "Alabaster. Nice to meet you. Call me Al. I've spent the last few months looking for you, Ophiucus, and well, I assume you know why any man would want to track you down. I must say you're much better looking than I'd hoped." It's true, when I first started using my abilities, there had been no shortage of takers. I couldn't help but flex my 19" arms a bit as his gaze travelled over my torso. I was shorter than Al at 6' even, but I'd worked hard to build this body, and even though my abilities didn't work on myself like they did for other men, I hadn't aged since my mid-twenties and my hard-earned physique never deteriorated from the peak condition of my bodybuilding years. His eyes meandered from my scruffy, handsome face over my thick, lightly furred pecs, down the central groove of eight abs on a 30" waist, down my adonis belt to hover over the obvious bulge in the sweatpants that were my morning attire. I imagined his pale skin against my sun-kissed natural olive and the beast stirred a bit. Al involuntarily licked his lips before snapping up to meet my gaze again, blushing and bringing out his razor-sharp cheekbones even more. Fuck he was a pretty one. "Al, please, come inside. We should talk a bit." We headed into the cabin and settled onto the sturdy sofa. "Well Al, what do you know?" His eyes brightened as he told my tale. "Thirty years ago, you just appeared. You're like a sex god or a superhero something, and nobody knows where you came from. You were given the name Ophiucus and fucked your way through the gay world. Your bodily fluids enhance men, making them bigger, stronger, and more virile. You were on top of the world. Until, they say, it became too much. Men were getting demanding, acting entitled to your gifts, so you left. You disappeared overnight on the anniversary of your appearance." He grew bolder, leaning forward. "The town nearby has an unusual number of very physically endowed men, and nobody there will say how they got that way. I had to seduce the grocer's son to get him to tell me about your visits to town, paying for supplies with your gifts and swearing everyone to secrecy." I frowned. "Don't blame him," said Al. "I was very persuasive." He began rubbing my thigh. "I grew up hearing about you, obsessing over the famous Ophiucus, hoping to meet you. You were just the first, you know, of the people with gifts. Although none have been as dramatic as yours." I had heard of others, men and women with inhuman, seemingly magical abilities. Mostly they went about their lives not making a big deal out of it. To be fair, most gifts weren't as fun as mine. Al continued: "After I realized I was like you, I spent months tracking you down. I would like to ask for your blessings, but just meeting you has been an honor. You inspired me to build myself up, to use my gifts for others, and I wanted to thank you in person. Being rock-hard to the point of near-invincibility has allowed me to help so many people, getting strong has helped even more." His giant hand was running up and down my thigh, stroking near my growing bulge, squeezing the thick muscle of my quads. As I felt my hard muscles dent under his grip I began to truly appreciate his moniker. "You're a legend out there, and the pictures don't do you justice." "FIrst, I accept your thanks and I will help you. Hell, I'll have fun doing it too. You're beautiful like you are now, and I want you to know that." He blushed again and smiled, but only nodded, clearly excited about what was to come. He was rock hard in his shorts now and looked to have a healthy endowment. "Second, the changes are permanent. There's no going back. Do you understand?" He nodded. "Third, I don't control the limit. Everyone has a maximum, and I can help you get to yours, but you need to accept that it might not be what you imagined. Can you live with that?" Al looked at me with hunger. He grabbed my arm with one hand and placed the other behind my neck, staring deeply into my dark brown eyes. His voice was completely serious. "It's a hope and a dream, but I'm an adult and I know fantasies don't alway come true. That one at least. But if the process of trying is as much fun as I think it's going to be, I won't be dissapointed." Then he pulled me in for a kiss. His lips were warm and smooth and firm. Fuck, it had been awhile. I leaned in, then lifted up and straddled his big torso, enjoying the hard body underneath me. I wondered how far the gift would take him. I ran my hands over his gorgeous chest as he felt up my hard arms and snaked his tongue into my mouth. I felt a surge of power as the gift began its work, sucking his tongue in and caressing it with my own. He moaned into my mouth as his body reacted, growing harder, the fire racing into his core and all his muscles gaining an instant pump. I squeezed his thin waist with my thick thighs and felt the muscles twist and strain as he embraced me, picking me up as he leaned forward and stood. He broke our kiss as he turned and set me on the couch, kissing his way down my torso, tonguing my abs and working down to my waist. His lips brushed my adonis belt as he grabbed my sweatpants and shimmied them down over my thick quads, admiring the strong calves and even kissing my feet a bit as he undressed me. My thick cock, already half hard and past the 10" mark, swelled across my right quad with the attention he was giving my body. This guy loved muscle, and I had plenty to give him. Al quickly shucked his own clothes and towered before me, pale and ripped and gleaming. His own considerable cock was 9" and dripping precum as his eyes wandered my sun-kissed body. I placed my hands behind my head and leaned back, letting my biceps bulge into gorgeous split peaks and shifting my eyes from my arms to Al and back. He got the message and dove in, kneeling over my legs and bending his long torso down, gently licking and kissing my bulging left lat, up through my armpit and working up past the triceps and over to my bulging bicep. Our lips met on my arm as we indulged in a three-way kiss: Al, me, and my straining 19" bicep. My short scruff and his smooth lips clashed on my peaks. My tongue darted out to meet his, reactivating the magic and sending waves of power into his body. Al sighed longingly as his body hardened and bulged yet again. His 16" arms were looking more like 17" now. His abs had taken on a deeper groove. His now 25" thighs gripped me tightly. Al reared up and flexed in ecstasy at his latest improvements. He sat his hard ass on my lap and I felt developed squatter's glutes dig into my thighs as he crunched a most muscular in my face. We were in mutual muscle heaven. I began gently licking his big square pecs, each brush bringing new muscle blossoming into being. The cleavage between them deepened as his pale pink nipples turned downward. When I was done with him he'd never see them again without a mirror. Al grunted and tightened the pose as the growth spread from the point of contact, every muscle bulging a little more as his pecs bulged under my administrations. A narrow groove separated the upper and lower pectorals as they took on a heavy, squared off shape, bulging from collarbone to the sharp swoop back to his ribs. I worked my way up to his shoulders feeling up his rock hard, expanding legs as I switched back and forth between striated deltoids. Al started groping my pecs and biceps and grinding his fat cock against my abs as his shoulders broadened and hardened, each head distinctly bulging now even when relaxed. I felt up his legs on either side of my own and enjoyed the growing muscular feast in front me. He completely coated my abs in precum as his fantasies about my famous body came true. Each of Al's shoulders jutted from his skeleton by inches, getting truly massive to match his fat pecs. My cock was now a fully hard 12" under his expanding ass, snaking past his tailbone and receiving the benefits of his thrusting against my abs. His athlete's body was becoming a true bodybuilder. Al threw his head back and placed an arm on either side of my head, enveloping me in his growing body. His neck widened and his thickening traps bulged as he panted and thrusted against me. His left arm grabbed my head and thrust me toward his right bicep, where I happily obliged, kissing and licking, biting gently as the muscle erupted under my lips. The triceps hung lower as the split peak of his bicep grew from graceful bulge to hard ball reaching longingly toward his clenched fist. Al rotated his forearm to flex the muscle under my mouth, pressing me into it harder with his other hand. After a few minutes and a few inches the left arm had a turn and the 20" right arm was the one gripping my neck, massaging my traps as I worshipped this pale god's growing body. Al met me there and we recreated the three-way muscle kiss. Our tongues touching sent another wave of full-body growth and he spurted a sticky glob of precum onto my stomach. His forearms hadn't lagged behind and the veined, rippling meat undulated as he clenched and unclenched his fist, pumping his arms up as the growth poured into him. The balled-up biceps looked like they were ready to burst his straining skin as we panted in mutual admiration. Once his enormous arms attained a beautiful 22" symmetry, we instictively changed positions. Al stood up and pushed my legs apart, then got on his knees on the rug in front of me with his back turned. I leaned forward and wrapped my arms around him, feeling up his newly enlarged pecs. I tweaked his nipples and began nuzzling his hair, breathing heavily into his ears. His enourmous melon-sized shoulders rippled with every movement. I began kissing the back of his neck as he shuddered. His traps responded beautifully, mounding up a little more each time he flexed them for me. Each unflexing left the traps as large as they were before the flex, the traps mounding up toward his ears in freakish hills, bowing out from strong neck to freakish shoulders into convex muscular monstrosities. The ridge between his traps deepened down his back until it was a valley of cleavage deep enough to lose a finger in. Nobody had ever responded this well to my gift, and I was going to enjoy seeing how far Al was willing to go, to grow into one of the biggest men alive. I leaned back to admire my work and he obliged me with graceful flex, rolling his huge shoulders and making the traps erupt with power. I moved to massage his traps and neck, running my hands across our creation. His neck was wider than his head now. He reached for my hands and brought them to his throat, where a few twists of his head brought his thick sternocleidomastoids into sharp relief under my fingertips. "Shit" I muttered. He responded by bringing my left hand to his mouth and sucking on the forefinger gently, guiding my other right hand down over his massive pecs and pressing his back into my own thick chest. He practically purred as my chest hair scratched against his broad lats. The secondary growth had spread to the parts I hadn't directly affected, and the thickened muscles flexed against me as I scooted forward off the couch and straddled his knees on the floor with my own. I humped my fat cock along the deepening ridge of his back. My precum smeared on his body and his back responded accordingly. The teres rippled with growth and his lats began creeping out. His thick arms were being pushed out by the v-shape turning convex. Al writhed and flexed. His hand released mine. I brought my hands back from over his shoulders and began to massage Al's growing lats. He got the hint and stood up, towering over me once again as his pale back filled my vision. I worshipped his back lovingly, exploring the spinal erectors and lats as his back exploded in a new wave of growth from my attentions. His 23" arms would have a hard time going below 30 degrees now. I lowered down to my hands and knees and got to work on his calves. The split head bulged from his leg sharply, jutting inches up and out. Each lick and kiss brought more and more muscle into being. Al pointed his feet and flexed them for me, alternating legs until his calves exceeded even his monstrous upper arms as my magic worked them into 25" freakish mushrooms of meat. Even at his height they were monstrous, bigger around than they were long. Al's calves were as big as a big man's thighs, over two feet around of rock hard striated flesh. Satisfied for the moment with the freakish calves, I lavished his hamstrings next. I could hear Al panting, his huge arms lifting with each breath as his bulging lats forced them further and further out. His hamstrings grew and flexed and grew some more under my attentions, pressing into my face as my scruff scratched gently over his straining legs. His thick squatter's thighs had to be in the mid-30's by now, and growing steadily. I reached around and felt the teardrop quads overflowing his knees. I grabbed globs of the precum burbling out of my dick slit in a steady stream and smeared it onto his quads. They responded by fucking erupting. His legs abruptly shifted apart as his stance was permanently changed for the wider. I felt carefully from behind, groping around his huge thighs a I continued to bury my face in his grotesque hamstrings. I got a good streak of precum on his sartorius and felt the sash of muscle across his quads thicken into a bulging rope of muscle Al reached back and gripped his thick ass, his arms having trouble as his expanding lats forced them apart. "Please," he whispered, guiding me to his ass. "Please." He was in muscle euphoria, barely able to speak. I dove into his ass, licking and kissing across the giant, striated cheeks, tonguing his hole deep, nibbling on the expanding hard flesh and tight, muscular sphincter. His ass was everything a muscle enthusiast could want, the pale cheeks involuntarily flexing against my face as I drove him wild. He collapsed onto his hands and knees, ass in the air. He was huge, closer to 400 than 300 pounds by now. From between his wide-spread 37" thighs I could see inches thick pecs pressing into the floor. His dick was over 11" now and drooling precum on the floor. I scooted over to him and slicked my dick up with my ample precum. Time for the main event. His muscular ass had to relax before I could penetrate. Al psyched himself up for the huge intruder, grinding his big glutes along my shaft a bit before lining up and pushing back against me. My fat cockhead pushed in, ever-so-slowly sliding though the muscular tunnel and spurting precum the whole way, until with a pop I was past his sphincter. I was leaking precum continuously, lubing him up to take my monster and growing his freakish muscles. He pressed his arms against the floor and lowered his chest, pushing his huge torso back to fuck himself on my fat cock. Fuck, his arms looked like 26" now. The triceps never looked relaxed, huge horseshoes straining as his biceps bulged against the sickeningly thick forearms. His huge back was an obscene ocean of pale flesh. His traps were so thick they bulged out from the bottom of his hairline to his upper back with an inches-thick furrow between them. After a few minutes of careful pushing, I felt his thick glutes finally press against my hips. His sphincter squeezed the base of my shaft reassuringly as he scooted back and forth an inch or so to get used to the monster inside him. I reached out and gripped the edges his lats. Even bulging so far from his torso, they were inhumanly thick. I held on tight and began to slowly thrust. In and out, faster and faster. He wimpered as the growth worked its way out from his core, distributed evenly and pumping his insane body up even more. "Fuck," he said between grunts. "Fuck yes. Fuck me. Fuck. Fuck!" And I did. I plowed him harder, pulling back until just the fat head of my footlong cock pulled against his sphincher, then thrusting in again. Harder. Faster. I battered his prostate and stretched his tight, muscular hole as his body grew beneath me. My orgasm was building as my gigantic partner strained and pushed against me, his huge ass and hard thighs meeting my thrusts. I was just about to blow when he abruptly stopped. "Everything ok?" I asked. "Better than ok," he said. "But I need a change of scenery." He pulled himself off my cock, tenderly lifting his hole up the shaft until finally the fat, dripping head plopped free. Al stood up and turned around. I gasped. I hadn't seen his front in several minutes. His chest was beatiful, with a hand-deep valley running from top to bottom. His abs had hardened up into a brutal 10-pack, leading down to an almost sickening adonis belt. The bands bulged and writhed as his now foot-long cock bounced in front of him. It was as long as mine now, and even thicker. Al moved forward and manhandled me, laying me on my back with my arms over my head. One of his strong hands was enough to hold both of mine down as he positioned himself squatting over me. Then he reached down and guided my cock back to his hole as his knees stretched wide enough to keep his huge thighs from crushing me outright. His bicep and pec clashed as he lined up my cock and began fucking himself on me once again. Fuck me. His waist was still relatively narrow, but the bulging lats and bowling ball shoulders made it look tiny. His thighs were each coming to rival my thick chest. The pale behemoth began posing over me and massaging my body with his strong hands. He brought his 28" bicep up and kissed it, massaging my pecs with his other hand. He was in muscle heaven as he rode my thick cock and felt my hard body and his own gargantuan growing physique. As he groped me his pecs his biceps and pecs fought for room. He placed his bunched fists on his hips for a lat spread and his grotesque back muscles reached almost out to his elbows. He transitioned into a most muscular that redefined the words. His pecs bulged up and bumped into his chin while his freakish traps actually pushed his earlobes up. All the while his huge thighs pumped away, fucking my dick with his ass. "You're so fucking hot. Ah fuck your cock feels like it's splitting me open and I just want more. More!" He planted his left hand on the floor next to my head and groped my thick pecs with the right. I flexed for him and he groaned appreciatively, squeezing and pawing hungrily. I groped his thick arms, his biceps and triceps exploding from forearm to shoulder. His forearms were bigger than my 19" upper arms now, and covered with rippling fibers and veins. He rode me hard and I thrusted up to meet him, our sweat-slicked bodies making a meaty cacophony as we slammed together. I couldn't take it anymore. I erupted inside him, shooting rope after rope of hot cum into his hungry hole and sending him higher into ecstasy. His growth increased even more and his own orgasm came like a volcano. His cock blasted shot after shot, each one an even larger load than the last. Thick splattering noises filled the room for over a minute as his 14" cock blasted the huge overhang of his pecs with cum and it rained down onto my body beneath. I basked in the afterglow as his bulk collapsed onto me. Al's chest heaved as he caught his breath, rubbing the sweaty meat of his pecs on my face. His growth seemed to finally subside as the last of my cum worked its magic. I was still rock hard as we collected ourselves and he stood, sliding off my cock and coming to his full height. He was slightly shorter than his full 6'7" now as his legs had to be spread so wide. His 30" arms were resting at a 45 degree angle from vertical. His 84" chest flowed down to a ripped 32" waist. His body flared out again as his huge ass and 45" quads asserted themselves. His thick-jointed knees looked delicately small between those overhanging teardrops and the 31" calves that exploded outward in a bloated diamond. His alread single-digit bodyfat was now stretched over at least 200 pounds more muscle. His 14" monster cock was also still erect and thick as my wrist. Huge bull balls hung in his scrotum, pushed forward by his thighs. Al rubbed his hands indredulously over his awesome bulk, his muscles colliding as he bent and flexed. His pecs blocked his abs from his view and as he felt his ripped stomach his biceps and pecs fought for space and his lats prevented his elbows from coming too low. I stood in front of him and joined in the admiration. I ran my hands over the hard bulges of his serratus muscles and down his trim waist. His core was constantly tensing and flexing to keep his ponderous upper half upright. "Shit," I said. "Nobody's ever taken to it like this. You're amazing! Fuck!" "This is everything I ever dreamed of and more," Al said. He grabbed me by the hips and lifted me up to his level. I leaned forward over his pec shelf to kiss him deeply. We remained like that for a few minutes, two lovers enjoying the euphoric afterglow of a truly glorious fuck. His enormous arms showed no sign of tiring by the time he put me down. "How can I possibly thank you enough for all this?" He emphasized what 'this' was by bringing his arms up in an impossible double biceps pose. The huge peaks fought for space with his forearms and he absent-mindedly opened his fists and began stroking the cephalic veins with his fingers. I wrapped both hands around his cock and stroked the still-slick shaft. "I'm sure can think of a way."
  4. The Company Chapter 1

    The teaser is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13634-teaser-for-the-new-story-the-company/ The Company Chapter One "What is it like? The Treatment, I mean." The elderly man sat in one of the restaurants owned by Physical Potential Foundation, and felt embarrassed and exhilarated at the same time. A young muscle-god had decided to sit down at his table, which caused a wave of mixed feelings. The younger man had obviously been through The Treatment already, and his shoulders unopposedly claimed the space of the opposite seat, as they protruded out of the sleeveless plaid shirt. Several upper shirt buttons were unbuttoned, and revealed a pec cleavage worthy an ancient statue. Even if his pecs were hard as marble, they were far from as pale as marble: A bronzed, hairless chest teased the elderly man with its body heat and whiff of anti-perspirant, but the most amazing thing with the other man was his eyes: Although men built like him had the opportunity to behave condescendingly or smug, this man's greenish-brown eyes sparkled of fun and mischief, like sunlight through the foliage of beeches, reflected in a well. A smile, expressing relish, was upon his face above the powerful jaw and dimpled chin. The young man answered: "The Treatment is awesome. Some guests worry about pain during adjustment of their bone-structure, but you are given some sort of analgesic with the DNA-altering and hormone-stimulating formula. It will feel great. Don't worry, gramps. You will enjoy it. And you will have fun afterwards. Which option have you gone for?" The elderly man felt embarrassed again, and he could feel his willy awake inside his pants, hearing the description of The Treatment. His silvery white hair was wavy. His suit didn't look cheap, but it wasn't luxurious either. With his suit and tie, he looked slightly misplaced in the restaurant. Indirect daylight was admitted into the room, but the southern wall lacked any windows, and the air conditioners struggled. The walls were panelled, and wooden logs ran from one wall to another under the ceiling. Many of the other men eating dinner were dressed in black leather, and looked like the drawings he had enjoyed in the 1960s and 1970s. Other men were dressed in a way inspired by the army: Crewcuts, jarheads, camo trousers, dogtags. One or two cowboys looked displaced in the environment. Judging from the scents in the room, the preferred style of meal was steak, barbecue, grill. Although most of the dialects heard in the room came from one or another part of the States, the elderly man could hear the odd Canadian, British or Irish dialect now and then, and some men probably spoke with unidentifiable European accents. He had seen a, supposedly wealthy, Saudi arrive in traditional Arabian garb, and descend the stairs an hour later in tight denim jeans, sneakers and an expensive-looking slim-fitting t-shirt, and with a sturdy golden chain around his neck. One of the muscle gods was probably Hawaiian, and he guessed one of the pre-Treatment guests was a Filipino. "I have chosen Fountain-of-Youth and Option Two." The young man smiled, causing dimples in his cheeks, and the glittering joy in his eyes returned. "You will love it, I guess. You are old enough to actually have been able to meet Tom of Finland. Did you meet him?" The elderly man ate one of his fries, and smiled for the first time, though the smile was shy, and his ears became dark pink. Dark pink contrasted nicely against his silvery white hair. "I am not very experienced, I'm afraid. My life went by, and I didn't engage with the wider gay community, until very, very late. It took me a very, very long time to accept myself. The times were different." He fell silent for a few seconds, and then repeated: "The times were very different." His thoughts briefly drifted away. Memories. "Tell me. I'm curious. My great grandfathers died when I was too young to understand anything, but I have always wanted to hear more about the past." So he told him. The musty scent of an underground cellar, used to store food the first years of his life. Ice preserved under saw dust, but replaced by a very bulky and noisy refrigerator inside the kitchen a few years later. Bicycling as a child: Playing in the nearby prairie. President Roosevelt on the radio. Charlie Chaplin in the theatre. War news. New suburbs emerging. The outhouse replaced by an indoors bathroom with water closet, which was an improvement in the cold winters and warm summers. Magazines with comics or short stories printed on cheap paper, which aged quickly, and became yellow and brittle, and smelled dusty and funny. Meals from tin cans. Jazz music. President Truman on the radio. He didn't remember much from wartime. He was a teenager when the Korean war ended. There was something impressive about the veterans who returned home, but it had made him feel embarrassed. His family became wealthy enough to buy a car: A mint green one with large fins. He didn't do well in sports, but one of his best friends played in the football team, and protected him from bullying. His mother had been deeply religious, his father less so, but the entire family went to chapel every Sunday. Many years afterwards, he learned, that the chapel had been into social gospel decades earlier, and performed a lot of charity work in the past, but, at some time shortly before the war, a new preacher had arrived, and the congregation had taken a more revivalist turn. Lots of emotions during Sunday meetings, and bible readings from an incomprehensible translation. "God's own translation", as his mother had used to say. "Thee" and "Thou" and "Shalt". Especially "Shalt not". One Sunday after chapel, he had asked his mother: "What's a sodomite?" Her expression had become rigid and disgusted, and she had explained: "It's a sick and hell-bound man behaving unmanly and unnaturally, worse than a beast. Promise me to never, never talk about such things again." So he didn't. There was a lot of fear of nuclear war, and everyone feared the Communists. And everyone feared traitors within, like fags, who were supposed to be Communists, all of them. His parents had voted for Ike, and Ike won. "Ike was a war hero, and back then there was a realisation in Ike's party, that people of colour (as we used to say back then – I'm afraid that it doesn't sound polite today, but it was intended to be back then) still suffered, despite slavery had been abolished eighty years earlier. Ike's party was the party of Abraham Lincoln, who abolished slavery. The other party was frankly outright racist back then, at least in the south. The sixties changed all that in a way you youngsters don't understand. I voted for Nixon, because I sympathized with the civil rights movement, but Kennedy won. Must sound self-contadictory to your generation. Lyndon and Carter changed the party-allegiances in the south. Some people my age became beatniks. A few became hippies, though most hippies were many years younger than us. Some were drafted for Vietnam. I became an office clerk, and later an accountant." When rock and roll emerged, he had initially continued to listen to jazz music, but there was something dangerously rebellious and appealing with Elvis Presley. He spent a lot of time in the theatre, watching films. He had watched a film called The Wild One, starring Marlon Brando, and Rebel without a cause, starring James Dean (who wasn't much older than himself). And then there were a wave of slightly childish but entertaining films about ancient Greek heroes or ancient Romans: Hercules, Ben Hur, The Slave. Steve Reeves and Charlton Heston were big names back then. Since he didn't marry, he had a lot of time left for other things. In his leisure time, he joined the Benevolent and Protective Order of Elks, which engaged in a lot of beneficial charity work. It was important to him, to assist less fortunate persons. Once or twice a year, he took a weekend trip to a big city several hours away, and visited an opera house: The bombastic music of Wagner telling stories about hero-figures like Lohengrin, Parzival and Siegfried spoke to him. It was an age of soap, cleanliness, mild colognes and horn-rimmed glasses. TV was something new then. People met at home and played bridge. He had a guilty pleasure: He read and collected a magazine called Physique Pictorial. It was supposed to encourage physical exercise, but he wasn't the sporty type of person. Anything else than golf or tennis would have been unthinkable in the social class he had entered in his adult and middle-aged years. He wasn't sure if it was intentional, but some of the artwork in the magazine, especially by someone called 'Tom of Finland', caused him to feel horny, despite the lack of women in the drawings. The drawings only depicted confident and very masculine men, especially lumberjacks, bikers and servicemen. At some time in the 1970s, he admitted to himself that his sexuality wasn't mainstream, but according to all men around him, fags behaved like queens, and the things he enjoyed weren't queenish at all, so he didn't know how to understand the matter of arousal and pleasure. In the 1970s and 1980s, the art of Tom became uncensored and explicitly sexual: Tall, powerful men in leather or uniforms pleasured each other. He felt guilty and ashamed, and the young schoolboy – in his past – repeatedly heard his mother's words – in the past: "Never, never talk about such things again." Sick and hell-bound? But not unmanly, surely: The beefcakes surpassed his old schoolmates (who didn't play football or baseball any longer), the straight men in the accountant firm, the straight men in the golf course, his straight brethren in The Elks. And the men in the drawings looked like they had fun. Not riddled by guilt. Just having fun together. Ultra-masculine fun. Homosexuals became more visible in society. The Stonewall riots must have happened in New York in 1969, but he wasn't aware of it at the time, and in rural small towns a lot of things went on as they always had. After hippies came disco, but he preferred opera. The number of television channels exploded, and became incalculable. It was an age of synthetic fabrics and too much sweat. Preachers in the chapels he attended preached against the increasing visibility of homosexuals, and talked about cures and therapy. AIDS happened, and he thought that it had been wise of him to avoid sex, otherwise something terrible could have happened to him. He felt embarrassed, guilty, full of shame, that he enjoyed Tom's art, but he noticed that Tom made an advertisement for safe sex. After disco came heavy metal and electronic music, but none of it appealed to him: He stuck with jazz music and opera, but he would listen to Bruce Springsteen now and then. It was an age of sporty anti-perspirants and young people with sticky goo in their hair. The hairy hairdos introduced by The Beatles and the hippies became unfashionable, and civilian young men began to favour crew cuts (or modern hairdos inspired by crew cuts). An increasing number of young men began to exercise, and it became usual to see wannabe bodybuilders in the stores and in the streets, and he felt embarrassed when he became impressed by, and aroused at, the sight of twenty year younger jocks (or even thirty year younger ones). In the 1990s, the advertisement industry abandoned any regrets against showing male nudity: Actors and soccer-players began to sell underwear. By that time, he had become decidedly un-political. The Soviet Union didn't exist any longer, and any difference between the major parties wasn't obvious. Since he didn't have any children of his own, he took delight in spoiling his nieces and nephews at Christmas and birthday parties. One of them, Brody, returned home from university at some point in the late 1990s, at about the same time as he considered retirement himself. Brody hadn't shown much of an interest in sports in elementary school, but had later began to work out in a gym, and, during university years, Brody had achieved an impressive physique. Brody had visited his uncle one of his first nights back home, and brought a bottle of Jack Daniels. Uncle had preferred something some more sophisticated, and they had each shared one balloon glass of imported French brandy, before they opened the bottle brought by Brody. "Better enjoy the brandy with taste buds intact.", as Brody had agreed. He remembered Brody as a rather shy and frail kid in the 1970s, brought up with Sesame Street and the usual fare, but the young man who now sat in the other armchair was a confident young male with a powerful chest. He had left his leather jacket inside the door, and was dressed in jeans, a sturdy leather belt with a conspicuous belt-buckle, army boots and a snug polo shirt. Brody had brought two cigars, and, after small-talk about many different things, they had – somehow – floated into quite private and personal matters. Brody had come out of the closet to his uncle, and Uncle had fallen silent for a while. Then he had told Brody his own story, and Brody had been very supportive. By the help of Brody, he had taken a few steps outside his comfort zone, and he began to donate to gay-right charities. He had decided to attend a more liberal and mainline church instead, and found that environment supportive. He remained a member of The Elks and the golf club, but he had lost some of his old business affiliates. He felt too old to look for a partner, but he enjoyed when Brody invited him to meet Brody's gay friends. Some of the young men had lost contact with their parents, especially Dads, when they had announced that they were gay, and he became an Uncle to several of them. He couldn't believe his ears when same-sex marriage was introduced. It was a few months ago, when Brody, now a successful middle-aged professional, had a talk with him about The Company and The Treatment. "One of my friends in the leather-scene consulted that company. The Treatment they give is unbelievable. I will probably give it a try when I become slightly older. They give something called 'Fountain-of Youth', and it is allegedly just what its called. Even men of your age return from the centres looking like several decades younger. To some relatives, it is rather shocking, but I thought, that it would give you a second chance, or at least an opportunity to spoil yourself. You deserve that, uncle. I will pay a part of the cost if you have any doubts." His awareness returned to the restaurant table. He watched the muscle-god before him and ate a few of his, now cold, fries. The handsome young man listened attentively. "It is hard to understand how it was in the past. It gets better, doesn't it?" - - - It was the day after. He was scheduled for The Treatment. He had been introduced to Bill, his PT, when he checked in yesterday, and it seemed like Bill was one of the men in charge of The Treatment. Bill was dressed in tracksuit bottoms and sneakers, a snug polo shirt and a white lab coat, and smiled at him. "The big day has come, Mr. A. I hope you will enjoy it, and we have several activities booked for you in the upcoming days. We also expect our guests to have fun with other guests, if they so prefer. You have Fountain-of-Youth selected, I see. It's one of our popular choices, especially among men of a certain age. Please drink the content of this glass and change into rubber slippers and a dressing-gown over here. I will be back, soon." He looked at the drinking glass, actually made of plastic. It contained a milky, yellow liquid. He tasted it. Vanilla, covering some bitterness. He took a deep breath and emptied it. Better done with it. He removed his tie and shirt, undershirt and trousers. The air in the Treatment department felt warmer and moister than usual, like a bathhouse. He let his underwear and socks go, and put his rubber slippers on. He still felt shy and vulnerable, wrinkled and fragile, as he now was naked under the dressing-gown. He moved the curtain aside, and entered the Treatment Room. A jacuzzi was sunk into the floor. Equipment indistinguishable from a tanning bed hang from the ceiling rather close to the jacuzzi. A scent of essential oils, reminding himself of some cologne, steamed from the surface of the hot water: A scent like wood, nuts, leather and citrus. Bill returned. "Will you please enter the water, Mr. A. I have seen naked men before, you can hand me the dressing-gown. Step carefully, so you don't slip. Yes, like that." Bill helped him down the stairs into the jacuzzi. "Now sit in a comfortable position, Mr. A, and I will repeat the information. You have been briefed twice before, but we use to repeat, in order to remove any worries. The formula you drank will alter your DNA, permanently increase your own production of certain hormones, and, since you have chosen this particular option, it will also help your body to rejuvenate. The formula in the water will activate the formula inside your metabolic system, and you will be sensitive to the ordinary UV light of the same sort given in tanning salons. During one hour or so, you will be able to absorb the energy of UV light and metabolize it into muscular tissue. Most guests find the process enjoyable. While you undergo The Treatment we will play some music from the loadspeakers, if you want. Did you chose any particular music when you filled in your form? Oh. Wagner, I see. Prelude to Tannhäuser? Now, just relax and enjoy the experience. I will leave you some privacy. If you feel strange, please press the alarm button hanging from the ceiling here." Bill left. The illumination went soft and dim. The jacuzzi activated, and hard jet streams of hot water began to hit his tensed back muscles and other parts of his body. The loadspeaker began to play Tannhäuser. The UV equipment in the ceiling lowered itself and activated: A blueish-purple light. He felt warm and comfortable. Relaxed, yet with some traces of worry left in his gut. A shiver of anticipation. A wave of warmth coming from inside, rather than from the surrounding hot water. Another internal wave of warmth. His bicepses tensed. Blood rushed to his willy. His quads tensed. His chest felt more... more present, in a way, like he had never noticed it in the past. Brody and his friends called the chest muscles pecs. He had pecs, too. He remembered the pecs of his old friend who had played American football in school – he had attended his funeral two years ago. He remembered the pecs of the men in the erotic art he enjoyed. He touched his own pecs. He could feel them grow. Uhmmmm. Grow. Pecs. He fingered one of his nipples, and moaned. The jacuzzi began to feel smaller, like it was shrinking. Then he realized, that he was growing taller, and, in the moment he realized that, his willy hardened into something probably better called a cock. He caressed himself with his right hand, and moved it to his mid-section, and he could feel six abs forming. Six marble-hard abs, like the young muscle-god yesterday. The jet streams intensified, and he became acutely aware of his physical presence, the extension of his body, and the increasing size of his now POWERFUL muscles and the delightful awareness of his own MASCULINITY. He had to tense and flex his bicepses. His legs. His bottom – what Brody used to call glutes? His back felt different. He moaned again. And again, louder now. It felt... He didn't know how to describe it, and he didn't need to describe it. He was absorbing the PURE POWER from the UV equipment, and turned it into STEEL-HARD brawn. He moaned again and thrashed around in the water, experienced spasms of movement, of flexing, of EMPOWERMENT. The Wagner music repeated for the third time. The prelude increased into a crescendo, and in his mind his ecstasy increased into a prolonged indescribable state of pleasure. He orgasmed once, twice and again. The pleasure never ended, but returned ever again in even higher states of intensity. He was no longer aware of his surroundings. Everything that existed was the triumphant background music, the pleasure that consumed every other thought, and the overwhelming EMPOWERMENT. Empowerment! Empowerment! Emp... Oh my God! Uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu uhu And the music climaxed too. - - - To be continued
  5. grUV

    So, this is my very first story. Thought I'd crack one out, while I'm waiting for my new job to start. Strangely it's more cock growth orientated than muscle growth, as muscle-growth was my original fetish. But there is muscle growth, and should it be worth continuing, there will be plenty more! So, please give constructive criticism and/or praise. Mainly praise. Basically just tell me it's awesome. But honestly, any feedback is appreciated, and should I have enough interest and then time, I may try to continue it. Title may be confusing: grUV - pronounced "groovy". Short for growth: ultra-violet. Which is a teaser for the basis of the growth. But enough waffle, here is: Chapter 1 Wow. What a night. I awoke with a slow grogginess that so often accompanies a night out clubbing down the bay with Dave. Thankfully we don’t have far to walk back, as he has a boat out in the harbour, docked out at sea. Nevertheless, the fact you have to use one of the numerous row boats to row out to it is always hilarious, especially when you’re as drunk as we were. “Ok?” What. I stared blankly, my eyes trying to focus, and take in what had awoken me. “I said, I’m rowing back into harbour to get some food for us all from town.” “Us all?” I croaked back. “Yeah, you, me and Brad.” “Brad?” “That guy I tried to introduce you to at the club. I’ve always said he can crash on the boat if he doesn’t feel like getting the last train back to his place. Looks like he took me up on my offer again, and rowed himself over at some point last night.” Dave explained. I had a vague memory of the cabin door banging open, and waking me in the middle of the night, and seeing a silhouette of a man, as he flopped onto some cushioning on the other side. I couldn’t remember meeting anyone specific at the club, we talked to a lot of people, and all I saw last night was a biggish shadow fall onto the bed near me, I couldn’t make out any discernible features. Nevertheless, I was in no mood to push for details, so simply responded with, “Cool”. “Yeah. He’s already up and gone for a swim. Maniac. Anyway, I’ll be quick as I can, but be nice. You were definitely too out of it to properly get to know him last night.” With that Dave went to the stern and hopped overboard into one of the two rowboats tied to his boat. I lay a while longer, grabbed a bottle of water, did a few stretches, and after a few minutes, felt well enough to venture out of the cabin and into the summer sun. I was just wearing underwear and shorts from last night, so I felt the heat of the sun immediately on my body. It was nice, but blinding. When my eyes adjusted, I looked out to the water, and caught sight of what must’ve been Brad swimming pretty fast back and forth. I took a seat at the starboard side of the bow, so I could face out to sea and watch him. After a few minutes he paused, and looked over to the boat. I gave a very unenergetic wave, but he responded, and began to make his way over to the boat. He heaved himself up onto the boat and for the first time I got a good look at him. The size of the shadow I glimpsed last night did not do him justice. The water trailed off his traps as his torso rose ever higher as he hauled himself up. He gripped the railings harder and pushed himself up, two triceps exploding to life as he did. He then swung a massive leg over the railing, and it landed with a heavy splash on the decking. He flashed me a smile as he began pulling himself to his full height. He had short dark hair which flowed beautifully into full stubble that lined his masculine jaw. His skin was a glowing olive, all of which offset a pair of blue eyes that sparkled like the sea that was still dripping off him. I watched a drop slowly begin descending from his neck. It travelled down the valley between two meaty pecs, and I continued to follow it as it meandered between his six abs. As it fell further, my eyes landed on his crotch. He was wearing just a red speedo. It was dark but shiny from having just been in the water. It looked a size too big for him, being quite wrinkly rather than hanging tightly on him. I assumed he was a bit of a modest fellow who didn’t want to draw attention, or maybe he lost weight recently. But I couldn’t dwell on my thoughts much longer, as he was standing fully upright now, had turned to face me, and said “Hey Stranger, the name’s Brad!”. I introduced myself and gestured for him to sit down just across from me on the other side of the bow. This gave me a great view of him as he sat down opposite me. He leant back against the railing, lying at almost 45˚, exposing his muscular torso to the sun. He brought up his left leg onto the cushioning and leaned his left elbow on it as he supported his head, commenting on how he was still feeling the effects of last night’s drinks. His bicep flexed and bounced up and down as he rubbed his head. His arms were huge, certainly the biggest I had seen up this close, I reckoned at least 18 inches. I empathised with his hangover, and we spoke about what we did remember from last night. He was quite a talker, but I was happy to listen. His pecs heaved when he laughed about the antics he got up to. The drips highlighted how defined and cut he was. I felt I was staring for ages. It must’ve been a while, because the sea water was beginning to dry, and left his body literally glinting in the sun. His speedos were also beginning to look lighter in colour, and I noticed also less loose. This caught my attention, but I wanted to be subtle. I kept directing open questions to him, and only answering with a yes or no to him, so he was soon lost in his stories again. I stole glances down every time he looked away, or closed his eyes to try and remember details of his night. I was right, his cock was definitely growing down there. The wrinkles of the suit began to disappear as a bulge began to form at his crotch. I could begin to see the shape of his dick as it slowly lengthened and filled the speedo out more. It also looked like his balls were expanding too, as the material of lower part also straightened out. As he rambled on, he continued to get bigger down there. His cock was lengthening and thickening; but now with the suit clinging relatively tightly to his new size, the material stopped any further advancement forward. I swear I could see the bulge kink and bend round as it still tried to thicken. This is when it suddenly dawned on me that he wasn’t getting hard. I theorised his genitals must have shrunk down a lot from his swim in the cold morning water. And now he was just warming up to his natural impressive size. However, the misshapen slowly growing bulge looked uncomfortable; and it must’ve been, as while he was still talking, he very nonchalantly pulled the waistband away from his body and bucked his hips. His cock lurched forward and down as it unfolded and grew into the new available space. As he let the speedo snap back onto his body, it now hugged a very impressive round sexy bulge, perfectly filling the perfectly-sized tight red suit. I figured he must be a healthy 5 to 6 inches soft, and pretty thick. Which was quite a pleasant unexpected growth from the initial practically non-existent bulge from his chilly willy I first saw. I was sure this was the case; nevertheless, I decided to test my theory. “How was the water?” I interjected when he finally wrapped up his current saga. “Not gonna lie mate, it was pretty nippy. Sun’s barely had time to warm it at all. Although an ice-cold blast does wonders for the hangover.” He replied. Well the sun had had time to dry him up nicely, and was now reflecting off the salt crystals peppering his chiselled torso. He was a sight to behold, and now that his crotch had stopped growing, I was finally appreciating the rest of him. And there were a lot of bulges to appreciate as they rippled from time to time soaking up the sun. “Why, you thinking of going for a dip?” He said as he stood up to get a bottle of water from the cooler Dave had on board. I watched as he rose to his 6’2” height. Turning sideways to walk across in front of me, I saw his big ass and quads tighten and marvelled as the big red bulge jiggled as he stepped. In profile it was clear just how sexily prominent his bulge was, its heft tugging on the material, showing it was in control, not the other way around. As he spun round to return to his seating position, again with one leg up, giving the bulge breathing space, I finally responded, “Perhaps I will in a bit. As you say, it might help with the headache”. “You a strong swimmer?” He continued. “Yeah, actually, in fact I was captain of my school’s swim team.” I said. “No way! Me too! Well when it wasn’t rugby season.” He replied. We began to converse about our various sporting endeavours at school. The conversation being much more two-way now that I wasn’t trying to ogle him. That being said, after several minutes, I did steal a glance down again. Seeing as he was almost displaying his bulge in that open position, it might seem weird if I keep avoiding it. My eyes quickly flicked back up to his, as I responded to his latest inquiry about which athletic events I preferred. My mouth ran off some generic answers, as my brain was pondering once again whether his speedo package was looking larger than before. I began stealing more regular glances. It was hard to tell. But when he went for a swig of water, tilting his head back, I decided to grab a longer look. I watched, it was hard to discern, but I swear I watched the whole round bulge slowly push the speedo further out as it enlarged. His head came back down, and I made sure to meet his gaze as he let out a refreshing sigh. Now, that I was curious again, I resorted to my initial tactic of getting him monologuing, so I could keep tabs on what appeared to be an ever-growing package. As he answered my barrage of questions, I was able to keep peaking down at his red speedo. I couldn’t stare long enough to visibly see any growth in action, but evidence came in another form. I started to note that wrinkles were beginning to reappear in the suit. Whereas before, the wrinkles suggested a speedo too large for him, these taut lines represented quite the opposite. Initially it was just two. Two lines stretching from each side of the suit to the middle, fading as they reached the flesh-filled pouch. However, with each glance, more wrinkle lines would appear. Four. Six. As the round bulge swelled bigger and pushed forward they continued to appear. Eight. Ten. Twelve! Again, as I was only glancing briefly, I could not see the growth, but on my most recent peek, I clocked that his bulge was almost in line with the end of the cushion now. There were soon too many wrinkles to count, and I noted that there didn’t seem to be any more room for more to form. Additionally, more of his legs were being exposed at the sides, as all the material was being pulled forward by the expanding bulge. He certainly seemed oblivious to all this going on, still chatting away about how much harder it is to play team sports outside of education. I didn’t know how much longer he couldn’t notice for though, the speedo seemed stretched to the limit. Then I heard it. It was hard to make out, as big Brad was still nattering on, but I heard what sounded like finger being dragged along the surface of an inflated balloon. I knew it must have been the fabric of the speedo straining after even more growth from his monstrous package. My theory was confirmed when my next cheeky glance down revealed that a space had been created above his muscular thighs where the material was now lifting away, pulled by what had to be about 9 inches of thick cock. I returned my attention back to Brad, had he not heard it? Apparently not, as he was still mid-sentence and continuing on like nothing happened. However, a few seconds later, I heard it again; and more prominently, as it fell between two words Brad was uttering. Brad continued speaking, but I saw a flash of shock appear in his eyes, and while talking he finally brought his leg down, and leant forward, trying to obscure my view of his bigger bulge. It worked briefly, my attention was now on his hefty pecs, making a muscular cleavage in this new hunched position, but I looked down again, and could still make out the bulge, which was now in line with end of the cushion on which he sat. Brad’s sudden fear and shift in posture must have meant he was aware of what was happening. I looked back into his eyes, waiting to see if he was going to acknowledge this weird occurrence. But he continued his story, finally finishing with a question to me. “Umm,” I murmured, then paused while I tried to actually think of what he had just asked me. But in that silence, the sound of the speedo stretching happened again. With no voice to mask it, it was clear, to us both, what had just happened. I looked to him, and we shared an intense eye contact, still in silence, still gazing into each other’s eyes. Suddenly, a huge, loud and long, fabric-wrenching sound was emitted from his crotch as the speedo strained ever further. I couldn’t help but stare down, as I was now able to clearly see the dreamy round bulge surge forth and begin to overhang the seat. It was growing so big, stretching the speedo, making it paler in colour. “Umm,” I began again, “Are you okay?” I naively asked. Brad slowly and simply leant back against the railings, and spread his legs, allowing me a full unobstructed view of his almighty size. He then grew again. I was unabashedly ogling his growing crotch. The sight, coupled with the sound of the fabric slowly losing its fight to his beastly dick, was such a turn on. “Yeah, I’m very okay.” He replied, almost laughing “You okay?”. I leant back too, “Yeah, maybe too okay!” I joked as my new posture revealed my tenting shorts. Brad laughed. “I wish I had known you were gay, I wouldn’t have been holding back otherwise!” His words were followed by three short bursts of rubbery stretching sounds as the tip of his bulge juddered bit by bit closer to the ground. “Holding back?” I questioned, “Wait, you’re not getting hard right now?” Brad laughed again. “Does this look hard to you?” He said cupping his giant package with his right hand. The round shape and way the bulge moved as its huge size overflowed his hand told me he was indeed still soft. “N.. No.” I stammered, “Bu…but, how?”. “Well, I’m guessing Dave’s suncream isn’t as water resistant as it claimed.” I stared blankly. Brad continued to explain further. “It seems when my body soaks up the sun and makes vitamin D, well, it really makes vitamin D.” His emphasis on the ‘D’ was complimented by another audible strain from his speedo, as his cock probably entered double figures in length. “Basically, when UV light hits my skin, it seems to make another hormone, as well as vitamin D, that goes to my dick and starts to make it grow. My balls too. The more light, the stronger the sun, the more skin exposed, the faster it happens. So, on a summery day like today, when I’m wearing only this, and haven’t got any protection on, well…” He trailed off, gesturing towards the now pinkish tight speedo barely containing an ever growing mass of meat. It grew again, this time the straining noise sounded a little different, almost as though a few of the fabric’s threads were beginning to snap. The change in tone made the tent in my lap bob a little higher. Brad smirked as he saw my cock trying to grow like his, but failing. He adjusted his position, rocking his hips slightly, and I gazed in awe, as the huge soft bulge continued to jiggle for a couple of seconds, which then reminded me, “Wait, you said you were holding back? …What did you mean by that?” “Yeah, you’re cute. I was trying to not get turned on. But seeing as you like…” He paused, and I heard a similar sound to the one just before, as I saw his cock jump a little, “perhaps I should stop resisting”. Suddenly a big straining sound was emitted, accompanied by some definite tearing sounds, as I saw a hardening cock shape surge forth. I could make out the outline of what was cock and what was balls now. Both hugely impressive sizes. Brad grunted and bucked his hips, and I could see the difference the erection was making to his genital growth. His cock was growing far faster than his balls as he got harder. The thick rod was pressed up against the ever-thinning material, so tight that I could make out the patterns of the veins on his dick. Especially as they continued to grow from both his arousal and his unique UV-absorbing condition. Brad moaned as another bout of rubbery straining and ripping sounds emanated from his crotch as the cock tried to lift away from his body as he got even harder. It was beginning to throb, and each pulse was accompanied by a ripping sound. I watched in lustful amazement as I saw holes beginning to appear in the speedo to the left and right of this mountainous bulge. Numerous ripping sounds continued as those strained wrinkle lines tore open into holes, allowing the speedo more slack. But it still wasn’t enough, as Brad’s cock quickly grew to fill the extra room. He was getting so big and hard, it looked around 14”. I could see most of it, as the base was exposed as his cockhead had pulled the waistband well away, and the speedo was more holes than material now. It was throbbing fast, and seemed to struggle to make that final growth it needed to burst free. Brad put both hands on the railings behind him, closed his eyes, leaned his head overboard, and then thrust. I watched as the base of his cock thickened substantially, the swelling then spread in a wave up his shaft, finally reaching his tip, which thickened too, adding that little bit of length so that a huge pop was heard as the speedo disintegrated into shreds, and a huge thick cock slapped up against his quivering abs. Brad was breathing fast, and I was dripping pre, having watched that sexy spectacle. But it wasn’t over. In fact, I guess even more skin was exposed now to the sunlight, which would only increase his growth. His cock pointed straight up and was thick and rigid, now at full mast. But as I suspected the growth continued. I watched as his two apple-sized balls seemed to fill, his cock was nudging up a little higher with each throb, hard to notice, but I could see. And very soon it drew Brad’s attention as the head dug into his pec shelf. He opened his eyes and looked down. Acknowledging the problem, he sank back down onto the cushion, and grabbed his shaft with his left hand pulled it away from his body. Fuck he was thick, his grasp not even close to encircling his cock. He then looked towards me, and pointed his cockhead in my direction and asked, “Want a taste?”. I didn’t even answer but simply moved across to him, took his monster in both my hands and pulled his cockhead into my mouth. It was a tight fit, but incredibly arousing. I slowly pulled my lips back off it, wetting the entirety of the head. I then used my tongue to lick all over his slit and glans, while my hands worked up and down what felt like a telegraph pole. I then eased the head back into my mouth, and began rhythmically bobbing my head up and down. I could feel him sliding past on all sides of my mouth as his fat head pounded the back of my throat. God, he was filling up all the space in my mouth. I then remembered he must still be growing, despite me shading part of his body. I decided to pause and hold everything in place, just so I could feel this miracle. At first, I couldn’t sense any growth. But I moved my hands together so they formed a ring around his shaft, and soon I noticed how his cock was slowly expanding, as my interlocking fingers were being pulled apart by this growing man meat. I then realised that his cockhead was now at the back of my throat, not because I had gone further down on him, but because he had grown another 2 inches in length. I noticed he was getting much thicker too, as my fingertips finally parted. His cockhead was no exception and was pushing against all sides of my mouth, allowing no passage of air. This realisation was such a turn on I almost came right there and then. But the need to breathe triumphed, and I jolted my head back, gasping, while pulling his mammoth junk from my mouth. “Well, well.” Said Brad, “Looks like you are enjoying. Perhaps we should move into the cabin before I become just too fucking big!” And with a smug grin, his cock grew up to halfway up his chest. Brad grabbed it, and began angling it down. “Open wide!” I looked at him confused and scared. How could he think that thing was going to fit in my mouth again after it just nearly choked me? “Your legs, silly!” He explained as he squatted down and slid his 18” dick under my groin. He slowly rose, pausing as he began to take my weight on his thick cock. I saw his quads bulge with dense striated muscle. After all this focus on his growing dick, I had forgotten just how hot and muscular he was. His thighs pumped up and his abs tensed, and he slowly stood up with me supported on his cock, balancing with my hands on his bulging shoulders. I could feel another dark spot of pre leaking onto my tented shorts, this was just so hot; but thankfully Brad wouldn’t have been able to see underneath his big pecs. Standing tall, Brad’s body was now fully bathed in sunlight. As he began marching me atop his junk, towards the cabin, I felt the rate of his cock growth increase, as the log supporting me thickened and rapidly lengthened, splaying my legs further apart. I let go of one of his shoulders, and felt the cock behind me as it grew to 20” and then 22”, each pulse lifting me higher as it gained more strength to take my weight. We made it to the cabin, and everything stopped. Out of the direct sunlight, and so the UV, Brad’s cock finally stopped growing. “Well,” he said, “I’m yours.” I stared into his handsome face, and again saw a smug grin come over his face. He throbbed his mammoth beast, and the rising cock angle made me slide down so that I faceplanted into his chest and stabbed him in the abs with my own boner. “Ooof,” He reacted, “That’s quite the weapon you’ve got there yourself. How about you free him from his prison.” I felt the same way, so swung my left leg over his huge cock and dropped to the floor. As I did so, his cock, now unburdened, swung up and the tip was level with the base of his neck. Having quickly whipped off my shorts and underwear before Brad saw the pre stains, I spun round to take in the view of him again. Gigantic. Everything. Pure masculinity. I had to service him. I grabbed the hand nearest to me, and began feeling and licking all the way up his arms; my tongue and fingers caressing every groove between the thick cords of muscle. On reaching his shoulder, I turned to face him, and had to stretch to touch each shoulder with each hand. His cockhead was level with my face, and was almost touching my nose as his broad chest pushed it out. I tried to ignore it for now, instead sliding both arms down to his biceps. He responded naturally, and raised both arms into a double bicep flex. Big boulders erupted forth, they split my fingers apart, and I tried to dig in, but the meat was just solid strength. I let my hands wander down to his pecs, and like clockwork, Brad started bouncing them, and my cock bounced in unison, tickling his balls in the process. I looked down and saw them. They were like two soft bowling balls, dangling down, halfway to his knees. I was so intrigued, I started fondling them, not noticing Brad begin to moan. I bent down and began to lick all around them, supporting their hefty weight in my hands, and watching as they overflowed from one of my palms to the other. As I licked them from bottom to top, I let my tongue run onto the base of Brad’s dick. He let out a louder deep moan, causing me to look up. I noticed now that his nipples had become sensitised, having thickened up, and were standing out a good half inch from his meaty pecs. I couldn’t resist, I jumped on his right one with my mouth, and began teasing and sucking at it, while ran my hands over his cobblestone abs, still trying to ignore the throbbing pillar next to my cheek. Brad moans only grew louder, he was loving this, and as I switched across to his left nipple, I saw a bead of pre run down his mighty shaft. While nibbling on his left nipple, I decided to reach across with my left hand and play with his right nipple simultaneously. In doing so, my arm was pressed against his 22” cock, and I could feel each throb, and just sense the power in it as it constantly vibrated with pure sexual energy. I couldn’t ignore it any longer. I left both hands twiddling at his teats, but began using my mouth to wet the beast before me. Round and round, up and down I went with my tongue, soaking his member, and causing Brad to start egging me on. When I was confident I had lubricated most of his shaft, I released his nipples and grabbed his cock with both hands, and began pumping his cannon. While continuing to wank him, I pulled the head towards me, at this angle, it was level with my mouth, and although too thick to fully fit in, I did my best to massage the glans with my lips. This was clearly appreciated by Brad, who began moaning and bucking. It was getting so hot, I had to pleasure myself too. One hand on my cock, the other on the largest one on the planet, while my mouth continued to suck its head. I accelerated the pace more and more, and more, until I realised I was close to cumming. “Fuck, I gotta stop!” I panted. “No worries,” Brad replied, “You certainly got me going good!” As I began to regain some composure, a thought suddenly crossed my mind. “OK, I gotta question… if it’s sunlight which makes… this… happen, then how come you don’t already have a cock as long as a road?” “Well, the effects wear off after I cum. I guess all the energy is stored as cum, and having it kept there causes my junk to grow. But once its released, everything returns to its previous state.” I must’ve flashed a look of slight disappointment, as Brad quickly continued, “But I never used to be this muscular, or have an almost 6 inch soft cock. Or even this tall. But a man gets curious; and I tried my own come once, and noticed it led to some permanent gains.” He said as he flexed a bicep up to my face. I grab my dick and slowly start stroking in response. “If you carry on as you did before, you might get a treat”. The idea that I could possibly grow larger, seemingly everywhere, was such a turn on that I was once again close to the brink of orgasm, and a large globule of pre emerged from my slit and ran down my quivering cock. Brad noted this and decisively spoke up, “Actually, I think you’ll like to watch this.” He walked over to the cabin door and stood in its entrance. I was wondering what he was doing, but then as I caught sight of the back of his hefty ballsack dropping down further towards his knees, I realised he was growing himself in the sun again. He was there for not even a minute, and then he spun round. Over 2 feet of thick meaty cock was advancing towards me, the tip bouncing around, now level with Brad’s luscious lips. He stopped inches from me. Bent his head a little down, and pulled his bloated cockhead into his mouth as much as he could. His lips moistened the slit as he used his bulging arms to forcefully pump the column before me. Brad began to moan as his actions became faster and stronger. I had subconsciously began wanking myself too. Brad’s eyes shut, and I could swear he was moaning ‘Fuck’ although his mouth was gagged by a head the size of a rugby ball. He let out one massive but muffled moan, and his stroking suddenly ceased. I looked down and saw his balls heave, and then watched his cock jerk as a torrent of cum ran up inside it and gushed into Brad’s mouth. The instant he began swallowing, I noticed him changing. I took a step back and watched as his whole body seemed to scale-up larger, keeping everything in proportion as he inched up, reaching now what must’ve been a towering 6’3”. He released his cock from his mouth, the spurts having finally ended, and I watched it lengthen an inch or two by itself so that the tip bumped against the bridge of his nose. I was on the edge, pumping like a maniac. Brad opened his eyes, saw me, and immediately placed his hands on his hips. And within an instant I saw his pecs puff out massively, expanding in size, weight and strength. His abs all swelled, fighting for space, and as he lifted his arms up and flexed, I saw his biceps grow larger and larger than before. His muscles were surging with much more energy than the rest of him, and that was my weakness. As his guns grew past the 20” mark, I blew my load and splattered his ripped torso, as his growth finally began to subside. We were both left standing there, catching our breath. I apologised for spraying Brad, and he laughed it off, grabbing a towel. I watched as he wiped my cum off him, and noticed his balls were back to normal, well maybe a slightly bigger size, but I had no reference point. His cock on the other hand was still looming towards me at an inflated size. However, I watched as it both began to soften and shrink, arcing down in the process. Brad cast the towel aside, and looked down at himself from his new height. After what I had just witnessed, his flaccid cock looked a sorry sight. But after glancing back at my own, and then back at Brad’s, I realised he must be 7 inches soft now! Plus Brad certainly didn’t seem unimpressed. “Fuck! Look at me, I’m massive!” He bellowed, as he struck pose after pose. It was true, his muscles had significantly grown. Dave might not pick up on the extra inch in height or cock, but Brad’s bodybuilder stature biceps and pecs were bound to give the game away. I wonder if Dave knows about this? “Damn,” continued Brad as he cupped his enormous left pec in his right hand, “This is incredible! …but we best get covered up before Dave comes back with the food.” I began redressing. Luckily the hot weather would dry my shorts out pretty quick from any embarrassing stains. I watched Brad rummage around the cabin until he found a pair of metallic blue speedos. He struggled to pull them up over his bigger legs. “Wow, I can’t believe how much my calves have grown. …Makes …this uuh..h. a bit difficult though, ..my quads too…” He wriggled about, his meaty muscles tensing and untensing in the process. They were just so big and defined now, I had never seen anything like it. Fuck I was getting aroused again. Brad eventually got the speedos on and over his genitals. They were super tight. And they made such a big beautiful blue bulge. It was shiny and massive, and I can’t believe I ever thought it looked small. Even framed by large cobbled abs and big quads, its size was unmistakeable. His thick 7 inch soft cock and balls already strained the material into a mouth-watering, big, round, shiny bulge. I couldn’t help but start boning up again. It looked so good. Brad caught sight of this, “Calm down now, Dave will be back any second.” I nodded, a bit disappointed and dropped my head. But instantly sprang it back up when I heard the now familiar sound of speedo fibres stretching. Brad was blushing, his arousal given away, and a glance at his package revealed some new taut wrinkles and a bit of delineation showing the outline of his chubbing cock. “No really,” Brad interrupted, resisting the moment, “let’s have you rub some suncream on my new muscles before I ruin another decent pair of speedos!”.
  6. Build-A-Stud

    Build-a-Stud was a new shop that opened up in the local mall. It housed all kinds of odds and ends for all kinds of tastes and kinks. Most of the tame stuff was out in the open, the more adult stuff was hidden away. This new shop was part of the Trucker Muscle franchise, so it became pretty popular in a short amount of time. "Welcome to Build-a-Stud, where you can become the stud of your dreams or make them into your dream stud." the large tiger attendant greeted the small blue wolf that entered the shop. "How may I assist you today?" "I'm here to pick up an order I placed last week, was told it had arrived." he pretty much whispered. He was shyly trying to avoid direct eye contact. "Ah, yes. Come with me for just a moment." the tiger ushered him towards the back room. "We tend to keep these out of sight, even though it's in a plain brown box." A few minutes later, the wolf was nearly skipping his way home, holding a medium sized box. He was already reading the letter that came with his package. "Thank you for purchasing the Fantastic Reality Package. In this kit you will find every kind of growth fantasy imaginable. From weight gain, muscle growth and hyper, you will find it here. The special latex suit is needed to make these fantasies into reality. Apply the patch of your choice onto the special square on the suit and enjoy the feeling as you transform into your new reality. Once the suit finishes the transformation, the patch will simply fall off the suit. You may remove the suit once that happens. Under no circumstance are you to remove the suit while the body under goes the change, it may result in undesired results. Under normal circumstances, you may retain some of the fantasy when the effect completely finishes after three days. Enjoy your purchase." At his house, he was instantly greeted by his large bull boyfriend. He instantly noticed the box. "So it arrived at last." he grinned. "Build-a-Stud does not disappoint." "That they do not. Even the ones in the store seem have used the services as well." the wolf held the box in such a way to try to mask his growing boner. "Okay so lets get this started." the bull grunted as he stood up to his full height. Pick up the suit, he tossed it over to his big boy friend. "You need to wear this for any of this to work. Then you get to choose what you want, they have a few patches to choose from. Do not take it off till the patch falls off." The suit looked like any normal latex suit except for something very obvious, it had an extra "sleeve". It was placed right where the crotch was, perfect for the bull to slide his ample cock and balls into. The wolf brought over several patches, they had a simple design to them reading each showing a big guy flexing as if they were for muscle growth "XL, 2X, and XXXL". A couple others were in there too, one showing a really fat person and one that simple had cock and balls on them reading "Hot and Heavy." Without thinking too much, he reached for the XXXL patch and placed it on the suit. The patch went right to work. "Holy. . . my body is getting hot and pumped, like one of my all-day workouts." he grunted. He began to sweat as he felt his body beginning to change. He couldn't help but started to flex. "I can see myself growing. . . it's really working!" As he watched, the wolf slowly walked over and began to feel up his growing bull. "Damn, it feels so real too. Wonder how massive you're going to get with that big triple extra large patch. . . you were already massive." the wolf noticed his bull's cock and balls also seem to be growing. "Fuck. . . even your cock is getting bigger." Panting, the bull kept pumping his muscles as he kept filling up and out. His body was packing on pounds and pounds of rock hard muscle, his cock and balls filling out the special sleeve. A massive wet spot was also starting to form. "So damn horny, was it suppose to make me feel like I haven't been milked for a week. I just need to get off." the bull started to rub his growing member. Panting and moaning as he brought himself to climax. As he came, his body surged in size, nearly causing him to fall. "The heck. . . I just blew up as I blew my . . . load." as he spoke, his voice now deeper, he climaxed again. The blue wolf noticed this and went right to the instructions to find out what was going on. Finding the exact patch, his eyes drew wide. Reading it aloud, "XXXL is the ultimate in growth packages. Not only will your muscles grow to tremendous sizes, but your package will grow as well. You will be incredibly horny and want to get off. As you do, you will grow bigger and faster. Enjoy the feeling as you cum and grow. Even after the patch has run its course, you may still grow as you cum." The big bull bellowed again as he came again and again. Muscles pumping him up bigger and bigger, he was wider than he was tall. His cock and balls stretching the special sleeve, cum dripping off the end of it, but the suit remained intact. "Getting. . . too horny. . . cannot. . . " he cums again, ". . . my body." he snorts and grunts as he struggles. "Got to get. . . out of this." "Don't do that, you have to wait. Taking it off might do something. . . to your body." the wolf rushed up. Mesmerized by the sight of his impossibly massive bull boyfriend and nearly hypnotized by his deep soothing voice. "You just. . . have to. . . enjoy this." The wolf couldn't help but began to caress and worship the growing mountain of muscle. The two of them enjoyed each other in the silence until it was broken by the sound of something popping. "What was that?" the wolf asked, while constantly rubbing the bull's muscles. "Think AC is on the fritz again." the bull grunted. He began to sweat. "It's getting hot in here." "Only thing hot here is you big guy. So big all over." the wolf went from rubbing the bull's muscles to patting his thick cock. He could feel the heat coming off of the massive tube steak. "So hot all over too." As the bull fired off another powerful blast from his thickening cock, his gut started to push out. "Ohhh, this doesn't feel the same. I can feel my gut growing." "Probably cause you have so much muscle, your abs are starting to push out." the wolf went back to tending to his growing bull boyfriend. The thick musk coming off the tube steak kept his attention there. Another pop and the sound of something ripping could be heard. The bull was the first to react. "Fuck. . . the suit is being ripped apart." As soon as he said it, he felt the heat radiated throughout his body. Before he had a chance to further warn his wolf boyfriend working his cock over, he felt his body starting to swell all over and started to cum harder than ever before. Completely unaware of what was happening, the wolf kept humping the growing cock under him. "Oh fuck yeah! Cum and grow, grow and cum!" he even started to rub and caress the growing gut that was slowly pushing him off the cock. The bull's growth slowed slightly every time he was cumming, but then sped right back up. More and more of the suit started to rip and tear. The bull was almost helpless as his beefy body was slowly becoming thicker and fatter than before. His cock and balls were the first to be free from the suit. His thick legs and chubby arms were next to follow, the torso just simply refused to break. Big sagging gut and massive moobs finally exploded free of the suit at which point the growth seem to stop. His gut so big that his thick cock was completely engulfed under it. "Damn you are one fat fuck now. Perfectly fat too. Time for my fat bull to get milked." the wolf quickly climbed up the mountainous gut of his bull mate and began to suck and play with his thick nipples. "Wha. . . ooh, that feels really good." the bull panted heavily. It wasn't long before the bull was cumming against his bloated belly. As he came, he lost some of his fat. "Fuck that felt. . . pumped. I think I lost some of my fat. . . keep milking me, babe, see how much of this fat cum you can get out of me. He didn't need much more than that, before he went to town. He sucked on one nipple while his other was being coated in thick cum. He was slowly fattening up as he drank in the thick nipple cum. The taste so addicting that he just stayed clamped on as he kept milking the bull for all he's worth. As the wolf grew thick and fat, the bull's muscles blew up as it seemed that he was getting stronger as he came. Soon the wolf was unable to get any more nipple cum as the bull's moobs were completely packed with thick muscle. "Now look who's the fat fuck now." the bull laughed, rubbing his mate's swollen ass. "Speaking of fuck, it's time to give you a bull ride." The bull's meaty cock was leaking constantly, acting like the perfect lube. As he humped the fattened wolf, his muscles bulged and tensed. He could feel his cock growing longer and thicker as well. The wolf was also swelling from all the pre flooding him. As soon as his climaxed, the bull swelled up to the point of immobility; the wolf fared the same fate. One packed with muscle, the other swollen with fat. "Damn. I cannot pull out. You're so tight." the bull huffed and puffed. He wiggled a little, only causing him to cum hard once again, both growing even bigger. "Fuck. . . I'm so sensitive too." this time the wolf wiggled, causing the same thing to happen. "Crap. . . don't move." "Easier said then done," the wolf snickered, wiggling again and feeling himself being filled again and stretched even further by the bull's swelling cock. "We have a few days before we, hopefully, return to normal." At first, it was easy to hold still, but as the hours rolled by the two couldn't help but fidget. Bigger and bigger they grew, the wolf was slowly being pulled off the growing cock in his ass. His progress of sliding off was held up by the wall, till he bursted though it. The two of them out grew the house, which allowed the wolf to be fired off the bull's overly thick cock. The two of them basked in the afterglow and the warm summer day. After three days, they slowly realized they were not shrinking. They were stuck being massive and immobile. Both were content and happy with how it all turned out. They been constantly flocked by worshipers and idolizers that want to tend to their needs. All courtesy of Build-A-Stud.
  7. Pistachio

    Hi, so I normally write outlines for fiction, but I've been itching to practice my actual writing on erotica. I'm still only experimenting with this short since I'm pretty rusty, so all comments and suggestions on the writing style would be greatly appreciated. I honestly don't know how to write erotica. Thanks, and enjoy (lol). — Pistachio — An Experimental Short Chris took the tumbler out of the refrigerator and let it settle on the kitchen island. “Finally,” he said. His heart pounded excitedly. He watched the pistachio-green shake defrost in front of him. He opened the lid and gave it a quick whiff, reminding him of chocolate, like was advertised. He licked his lips in anticipation. He’d spent three months preparing the formula and lost most of his savings. Being a college student, losing any more than $3 was quite a loss. Chris had spent $100. $99.50, to be exact. He couldn’t waste this. His boyfriend, Eric, called out to him from the living room. “What’s taking you so long?” he asked. “I didn’t know it took ten minutes to get a glass of water.” “Wait! I’m almost done.” “With what? What kind of complicated ass water are you drinking?” ‘You’ll see,” Chris thought. He took the tumbler with him back to the living room where Eric was lying flat on the couch, waiting for Chris to return. “About time.” he said. “Sorry, just prepared a drink for myself.” He placed the tumbler down on the side table. Eric’s eyes locked onto the tumbler. He wrinkled his brow and stared at Chris. “The fuck is that? Did you get your water from the trash compactor?” Chris chuckled. “Fuck off. It’s just a chocolate shake… that’s green.” Chris sat down on the couch. Eric crawled up and rested his head on Chris’ thigh. They looked in each others’ eyes and smiled. Eric pounded on Chris’ stomach and rubbed his hand across the soft fat. “Thought you were trying to lose weight and gain some more muscle, tubby?” Chris rested his hand on Eric’s sizable chest and wiggled his finger around his nipple. “I’m trying. I don’t want you outgrowing me so fast. You’ve been gyming for, what, three months?” Eric chuckled. “What about it?” “Dude, look at you! You’re already nearly as big as I am, and I’ve been going for almost two years.” Eric got up and sat on the couch, resting his legs underneath him. He lifted Chris’ chin with his finger and kissed him gently on the lips. As they maintained eye contact, Eric reached down and grabbed a handful of Chris’ junk. “Nothing wrong with that, though, right?” Eric smiled playfully. “Who said the bottom couldn’t be the bigger guy?” Eric said. Chris was speechless as Eric worked his hand around his member. He could feel himself getting hard in Eric’s soft hands. Eric tugged down Chris’ shorts, leaving him in only a shirt and briefs. “Oh, yeah.” He ran his tongue across Chris’ underwear, pushed out by his engorged manhood. The rough cotton travelling across his tongue. Chris had always been sensitive. He never needed much to get off, and Eric knew. Chris tossed his head back in pleasure, moaning with every lick. He looked to his side and saw the tumbler still resting on the table. He grabbed it and popped it open. Eric looked up and dug his hand underneath Chris’ shirt, groping Chris’ pecs. “Is now really the time?” he asked. Chris didn’t reply as he quickly downed a quarter of the shake. He closed it and set it back down on the table next to him. He exhaled, feeling the chilled shake travel down his throat. Eric got off the couch and on the floor. He opened Chris’ legs wide open and stroked his thighs as his hard-on throbbed harder in the tight underwear. Chris was feeling something he’d never felt before. It felt as though the chill of the shake was travelling across his body, numbing it down. “Is my big boy getting a little chilly?” Eric asked, still stroking Chris’ thighs. When the cold got to his penis, it began warming up. His entire body followed, and he felt his cock surge slightly larger. “Did your dick just get bigger?” Eric asked. Chris’ breathing was getting faster. He could feel the heat enter every fiber of his muscles. “Why don’t you–hnng–check it out?” He pulled down his briefs, letting his cock fly free. It emanated with warmth. Eric climbed up and grabbed it with both hands, immediately filling his mouth with nothing but smooth head. He licked around the shaft, knowing it was where Chris was most sensitive. Eric tried making eye contact, but Chris was focused on something else. Chris raised his right arm and watched as his upper arm slowly grew thicker, rounder. He flexed it once, twice, and with every repetition, his bicep grew bigger and higher. His raised his left arm and did the same. With every flex, he could feel the power in them growing more and more potent. “Fuck, are you growing bigger?” Eric asked. “Yeah, man. It feels so good.” Eric climbed up and began pulling up Chris’ shirt. Chris pulled his shirt back down, took Eric’s hand, and put it back on his dick. He squeezed his hand tightly and began using it to masturbate. “Fuck, no, don’t take my shirt off. I wanna feel this.” he said. “This is fucking amazing.” Eric said. Eric began licking Chris’ firm nipples through the shirt as his chest grew outward, filling his pecs and torso with pure meat. He took Chris’ growing arms and raised them to a double bicep as he dove in and planted his lips on Chris’ and his hands on his biceps. Chris’ arms were pushing up his sleeves to his shoulders. His biceps still growing at a steady pace. “You taste so good.” Eric mumbled. “Why don’t you get back down and keep sucking?” “On it.” Eric felt Chris’ cock smack his thigh as it continued to grow with the rest of him. Chris’ shirt strained as his chest and arms grew bigger and thicker. His lats pushed the shirt far out while his chest grew into two massive slabs of meat, quickly inflating. Chris’ shirt was being pushed out by his pecs that his cleavage was growing larger and larger. His pecs pulled his shirt out so far that the neck hole was being stretched to its limits. Eric was beginning to struggle wrapping his small hands around Chris’ growing arms. His biceps growing into hills. His chest, balloons. Eric felt himself being pushed back by Chris’ legs. He looked down and saw Chris’ legs jut out ever so slightly, as if he grew a few inches taller. His thighs continued to thicken and grow, and grow, and grow until they were as round and firm as steel beams. Every striation was visible. “Fuck, this is hot,” Eric said. “I feel hot,” Chris said. Chris’ member also grew in size, pulsing larger but never shrinking. Eric was having trouble maneuvering around his growing boyfriend. He was beginning to look more and more like a child trying to climb onto a growing tree. “You’re the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Eric said. “Shit.” He sat in between Chris’ legs, trapping himself inside as Chris only continued to grow bigger, bigger than anyone Eric has ever seen before. Eric grabbed Chris’ shaft firmly with both hands. He squeezed the massive tool, growing it bigger and bigger until it looked as big as his forearm. Its head rose as high as Eric’s head as he licked around it. Chris’ shirt began tearing down the middle as his pecs grew into massive pillows, his nipples large and begging to be sucked. He flexed another double bicep and his arms tore around his sleeves. His shirt could barely hold him in. Chris was living in pure ecstasy as he grew ever larger, his ass sliding off the couch due to his increasing mass. He tried looking down at Eric but his pecs had grown too thick to see past. “Where’d you go?” Chris asked. “Still down here, big guy.” Eric could feel Chris was close to climaxing and stroked his massive shaft with both hands. His tongue went on overdrive, licking every possible nook of Chris’ massive dick. It wasn’t long before it spewed out massive dollops of hot cum, coating Chris’ massive exposed torso and legs, as well as Eric’s face and hair. It continued spurting until every last drop from Chris’ balls had been shot out. They both took a second to breathe and make sense of what just happened. “Fuck! Look at me, Eric.” Chris said. “Wait, shit, how big did you just grow? I can’t fucking see, there’s cum in my eyes.” Chris stood up, knocking Eric down to the ground with a swing of his heaving member. “Shit, sorry.” The smell of bleach permeated the whole house. He looked around the room and never felt bigger. His once loose shirt now looked as though a single stretch would cause it to tear straight down the middle. It was pulled out so far by Chris’ pecs that it only reached halfway up his abs. He looked down at Eric and nearly confused him for a twig. If they had looked like brothers before, now, it was like comparing David to Goliath. Eric tugged on Chris’ still engorged member to pull himself up, knowing it only made Chris hornier. He stood up on both feet and tried looking up at his boyfriend. Eric smiled. “I think I shrunk.” he said. Chris smiled and grabbed both his pecs, trying to cup as much of them in his hands. “Naw, man. I’m just so fucking huge.” he said. “I’m so big.” Eric tried wrapping his arms around Chris’ torso, but barely got halfway around. “Shit,” he said. “Your pecs are so fucking hard.” Chris bounced his pecs, hitting Eric. His penis throbbed against his abs, chest-level with Eric. Chris bent down and flexed his gigantic bicep across Eric’s face and licked his lips. “Suck it,” he said. The thick arm took up most of Eric’s line of sight. Eric tried grabbing it with his hands and felt small. He planted his face and tongue against the bulging bicep as Chris flexed it repeatedly for Eric’s pleasure. “Was this really all from that shake?” Eric asked. “Yeah, and there’s still most of it left.” Eric bent down and grabbed Chris’ throbbing cock and gave it a tight squeeze. “Why don’t we take this upstairs? Your brother’s still out, right?” Chris laughed. “Good to go again if you are.” Chris and Eric continued fooling around upstairs in the master bedroom, exploring Chris’ newly-grown body. The two eventually fell asleep. At midnight, Chris’ younger brother, Evan, snuck into the house, hoping no one was up. He was on his way up to his room when he noticed a green shake left unrefrigerated on the side table.
  8. The Antaeus protocol

    Preface Yes. It is another short story without continuation. There are other sorts of stories than multi-chapter ones. Yes. It is another one in an army setting, as so many other stories of mine. I repeat myself. Yes. It will be dark and dystopian, since this technology would always be abused, if it existed, which is a pity: I would have preferred a bright and colourful world of plucky, cheerful Captain Norways, Captain Luxembourgs and Captain Canadas full of high ideals. You have been warned. The Antaeus protocol He could feel the familiar scent of the hypertrophic solution. The odour made him think of wounds tended by iodine, swimming pools kept clean by calcium hypochlorite or chemistry lessons from school years, but, despite the similarities, the hypertrophic solution had a unique and unmistakeable scent of its own, and by now Sergeant Scott could recognise it anywhere. No one would say, that it smelled good, but, by now, Sergeant Scott had begun to associate it with Project Ultramarine, and most things with Project Ultramarine made him feel excited. Most things. He could vaguely recollect aspects of the Project, that didn't make him feel excited: The simulated interrogations, the simulated torture, the abrupt wake-ups at 3 or 4 a.m., but those things beside, he felt honoured, that he had been chosen for the Project, and he felt excited every time Doctor Ohm scheduled him for The Chamber. It was almost as something out of a comic book: Scott had joined the Royal Marines, been re-assigned to SAS, done well in things related to endurance, marksmanship, diving, HAHO/HALO and intelligence, but he was scrawny, and had weak results in anything related to heavy equipment. One of his superiors had re-assigned him to a top secret project: Project Ultramarine. Sergeant Scott had increased six inches in height and 55 lbs in weight – none of it bodyfat, all of it muscle mass. Scott felt like a different person, and he liked to be one of the chosen for the project. He wanted to serve in the armed forces in order to protect civilians, and Project Ultramarine increased his ability to perform his duty. Just a few weeks ago, he had marched with heavy equipment across the Cairngorm Mountains with a medium speed of 18 mph despite an intense snow storm. He turned around a corner. Brigadier Smythe-Fforbes had invited a handful of high-ranking officers, but it was not of Scott's concern to know any details. Need-to-know-basis. As usual. The scent of the hypertrophic solution was now mixed with whiffs of the dry air and scent left by anabolic radiation. Not exactly like the dentist's, not exactly like a tanning bed, but, despite the traces of hypertrophic steam, the air felt dryer than normal, and it tickled in his throat. He entered the Lab. Quite a few men sat on chairs or stood small-talking, when he entered. Doctor Ohm and Evans, the lab assistant, were the only civilians, and were easily recognisable in their white lab coats and black rubber gloves. He saluted and stood at attention. "Stand at ease, Sergeant!" Scott stared straightforward, but his enhanced senses had already identified an unusually high number of generals, admirals and marshals among the gathered men. For a few seconds his mind drifted – drifted back in time to his first exposure to The Chamber. Doctor Ohm had only exposed him to a low amount of anabolic radiation at that time, but, since it was his first bath in the hypertrophic solution, he hadn't known what to expect, and the experience had been overwhelming. The energy blast had hit him like a blow, and his wiry physique had began to fill out in a very pleasant way, that had taken him with surprise. He had become empowered, he had felt his strength increase, and the formula given to him 45 minutes before treatment had been released by the relentless onslaught of the anabolic radiation. After his first submersion in The Chamber, Doctor Ohm and Evans had permitted him three consecutive exposures, weeks of tests and evaluation apart. Doctor Ohm was reluctant to increase the formula, the concentration of the solution and the intensity of the radiation, and only increased them in small steps, after what seemed like careful consideration. Sometimes, Scott had noticed traces of impatience in Evans' face, but didn't give it much of a thought. He had also observed seemingly inactive lenses in the walls of the chamber – the radiation came from below and above. The Brigadier had been giving a speech, and Sergeant Scott's attention returned to the Lab. "And as you have read in the handouts, Gentlemen, the effect is very promising. Before we proceed, I will let you observe the test subject's present level of ability." The Brigadier waved in the direction of the weights. Scott had been told beforehand, that he should demonstrate his strength before the guests. Scott lay down on a bench, removed the barbell from the stand, and began to press the weight of 660 lbs up and down, up and down: Nine times. He could feel blood rush to his newly trained pecs. It felt good. He rose and stood at ease. The officers were whispering. The Brigadier continued. "As you may understand, this neglected branch of research is in need of further funding, and, as you have seen and read, the results are very promising. But this is not all. You will also witness the next step of the test subject's enhancement. Doctor Ohm? Mr. Evans? Sergeant Scott!" "Sir!" "Please proceed to The Chamber, Sergeant." "Sir! Yes, Sir!" Evans stood at the landing, and helped Scott with the facial breathing mask and the electrodes at his temples. Scott descended down the steps in the still empty chamber. Evans closed the lid. Normally, Scott would have undressed before entering the chamber, but, as he understood it, The Brigadier would give the guests a show, in order to ensure funding. The glass was too thick to allow him to hear all noises from outside, but his enhanced ability to listen would allow him to receive a few fragments, at least. The Brigadier gesticulated outside, and seemed to continue his speech. Doctor Ohm turned to the console, and Evans stood ready by the switches for the gas and the solution. A hissing sound began, and Scott eagerly inhaled. It had become better and better by each time, and he couldn't guess how much better it would be this time. A silent murmuring sound, he now was familiar with, grew in intensity, turning to a hum, and, as the murmur increased into a humming sound, Scott's anticipation increased, too: The anabolic radiation device was heating up, and he was soon going to be exposed to something, that would improve his endurance, increase his strength and enhance the size of his muscles. He swallowed. A whispering sound combined with a slight dizziness witnessed, that the formula was spreading in his body, and it was ready to react to the anabolic rays. The chamber felt dry, and the hair on his forearms bristled like the first time. Like the other times. Any second now. He swallowed. Unconsciously, he tensed his muscles in anticipation of the oncoming flow of energy, and his dick awoke inside his pants and camo trousers. He became acutely aware of his bodily extension: How his feet were enclosed by green socks and boots smelling of boot polish. His camo trousers smelled of moth repellant, and the olive-coloured t-shirt felt snug and tight on his hard and built torso. He could feel the pump in his pecs, from the bench press a few minutes earlier. The humming increased. So did his blood pressure. He wouldn't call it fright or fear, but each step of enhancement was a step into the unknown. He was the prototype. It hadn't been done before. No one could know with certainty, that each latest step was free from risk. Even if the experiments had turned successful in the past, the new factors introduced at this step could have unforeseen consequences. He ran the risk of bodily harm or even lethal effects, but on the other side, if it worked, the positive effects might be far beyond their expectations. He hoped, that Doctor Ohm knew what he did, but the almost exaggerated cautiousness, by which the scientist had proceeded during Project Ultramarine, comforted Sergeant Scott in his doubts: The Doctor didn't take any risks. Any second now. The breathing mask hissed. His throat felt dry. He swallowed. He could hear his pulse in his temples. His dick throbbed against the fabric of his pants. Evans had mentioned something about high testo levels. The Chamber hummed more loudly now. He braced himself. Then it erupted. The rays beamed through him, penetrating every muscle fibre in his body, and there was nothing he could do to protect him from it, had the effect been dangerous. But it felt good. He could feel his muscles react to the radiation, feeling more than pumped, sore and heavy and powerful at the same time, and he could feel the hem of the t-shirt slip out of his trousers, and slide upwards over his waist and belly-button, revealing his cobble-stone six-pack and his steel-hard obliques. He was overwhelmed by the sensation, and only absent-mindedly aware of the splashing sound of hypertrophic solution, that, with increasing force, began to fill the chamber. The t-shirt felt ever tighter, and the anabolic rays empowered him, more than ever before. With a yelp, he flexed his arms, and the short sleeves of his shirt ripped apart. With a moan, he did a crab, and the remaining fabric fell into the solution, tumbling around in the bubbling liquid. Though cargo trousers are supposed to be wide, the camo-patterned trouser legs could no longer contain his growing – nay, expanding! – quads and hamstrings, and the tatters, that once had been trouser-fabric was soon floating together with the former t-shirt. The Brigadier said something. The audience looked amazed. The level of the liquid rose quickly, and Scott felt relief, when he became fully surrounded by it, floating in the hypertrophic solution, that increased the effect of the anabolic rays tenfold, twentyfold. The boots felt uncomfortable around his feet. It had been a bad idea to keep them for propaganda purposes. They actually felt quite painful and too tight! And then his growing feet forced themselves out of the army boots, which sank to the bottom of The Chamber. Only his pants remained, and they were made of some sort of stretchy fabric, that felt comfortable against his bum and dick. Wet. Elastic. Expanding. Keeping his rod in place. Adapting. He was adapting, too. He floated with closed eyes in the warm solution, and he allowed his big, growing hands explore the slabs of power-beef he once had called his pecs. His shoulders were increasing too: Hard! Bulging! Still growing! Each one of the three shoulder muscles clearly separated – which also was true about the two heads of each biceps. He let his index finger touch his biceps and run along the separation between the two muscle heads. His palm squeezed his tensed biceps. It felt hard and good, approaching the size of a handball now. Size of a handball! His dick twitched. Size-of-a-handball-now! The liquid turned the thick glass into a mirror. He could watch his own reflection, and it amazed him, but the thick glass made it hard to hear what happened outside. He thought he could hear fragments of an argument. A few tumbling chairs? Raised voices? The Brigadier? One of the generals? Doctor Ohm? ".... No! Safety precautions..." And then gunfire. A few shouts. An unknown voice: "... proceed... ...increase... ...activate the Antaeus Protocol." "No! Not the Antaeus Protocol! Too dangerous! ... untested..." "... increase..." He felt alarmed for a few seconds, but then something happened. Something amazing. Something that defied all description. The electrodes used for programming of brainwave-pattern activated, and they activated with heightened intensity. It was not like any of the gradual and mild programming sessions he had experienced before. He was overwhelmed. The promise of mental and bodily pleasure made him eager to learn new abilities, and the Antaeus Protocol taught him to kill without remorse, erased his conscience and turned him into an obedient combat-machine. There was a second or two of hesitation and surprise, but the human instincts and hesitating conscience were soon quenched by the unbending and relentless Antaeus Protocol. His resistance was broken. He accepted the Antaeus Protocol, and, in the same second, the anabolic radiation increased in intensity. His eyes widened. His entire body spasmed for a few seconds. He could feel his cock rip the fabric of his pants apart. Testo levels! TESTO POWER! The surrounding hypertrophic solution bubbled intensely now, increasing the effect of the rising anabolic radiation manyfold. It went far beyond any of the earlier experiments, and Scott was now unaware of his surroundings, lost in the overwhelming experience of extreme, unlimited GROWTH. The unknown lenses he had observed before in two of the walls began to lit up, and flashed into life. The chamber, the liquid and anything inside the chamber were now exposed to two different types of power. The effect of the hypertrophic radiation was multiplied by the synergy of the unknown power. Scott's arms and legs thrashed around uncontrollably in the energised, bubbling liquid and his moans increased into bellows and roars: Bellows and roars of pleasure, bellows and roars of unbridled aggression and bellows and roars of a nameless ecstasy going beyond them both. He grew uncontrollably now, but he didn't want to control it. He just wanted more. He wanted all of it. He wanted uncrushable brawn and indestructible muscle mass. In the mirror-like surface of The Chamber he could see his physical appearance transcend all formerly known limits of the human physique. He must have been 6'10'' now, and he was still increasing rapidly in height. His muscle mass was like some unknown matter which was boiling over, but there was nothing random or deformed with his shape: The expanding steel-hard beef was shaping itself into the most well-proportioned and efficient icon of strength beyond strength, masculinity beyond ultra-masculinity. The gigantic shape of a titan emerged. A powerful titan bulging and throbbing of muscular strength. Scott felt the mounds – no, mountains! – that were the building blocks of his body, and increasingly more power was still ever crammed into ever fibre of his being. He could tangibly feel himself grow, and then he saw something, that looked like a liquid metal, like mercury, and shiny like a mirror, form around his body. He could feel the substance surround him and enclose him, and, when the process was finished, he felt entirely invulnerable. He felt indestructible, like a titan of yore. He was undefeatable, like Antaeus. Come hell or come high water, he would obey every order. He was the prototype of the Antaeus Protocol.
  9. The caretaker

    Dedication The one who inspired this story know who he is. I want to thank him. Writing a shorter story in-between the multi-chapter sagas in my pipeline, keep my creative flow returning. Thank you. This was fun: The basics of MG stories, without any attempts to be original. The caretaker Nat was lucky. He'd got an employment immediately after high school, and now, four years later, he could afford a small flat. No day was like another, but each week was similar to the last one. Work as a caretaker fell somewhere between the repetitive and the variable. He had no idea about the exact purpose of the experiments going on in the labs of the company, but he didn't need to know, in order to fulfil his duties properly. He had signed a handful of documents about professional secrecy, when he accepted the job, but, as far as he understood, he hadn't seen or heard anything anyone would be interested of. Lorries or couriers delivered boxes, equipment or canisters, he signed the receipts, and he wheeled each thing to its place in the warehouse. The many labs upstairs requested one or another gadget, and he brought them there. Lightbulbs or other illumination broke, and he replaced them with new ones. The bathrooms usually worked as they should, and so did the fume hoods. He didn't have much in common with the boffins upstairs, but most of them seemed grateful for his work. He usually spent lunchbreak in a small subterraneous room close to the lockers, together with the two other caretakers. Twice or thrice, he had seen uniformed officers from the armed forces, or what seemed like athletes accompanied by persons from marketing companies or nutritional supplement companies, which puzzled him, since they didn't seem to fit in among the regular work staff. The wage was more than decent. Nat had given weight training a try in the past, but now only worked out infrequently, because of lack of gains. He was of average build, and at a height of 5'7''. He stirred in his sleep. Something was weird. The alarm clock hadn't beeped. Nor had his mobile phone. Usually, he didn't wake, before his technical equipment woke him up. He felt warm. His bedsheets were damp, because of sweat. His sweat had an unusual scent: Not bad, not good, just different than usual. He opened his eyes. It was still dark outside the window, but streetlights caused a dim light to fall into his bedchamber. Strange. Then he remembered. The accident! It had been about closing time, and one of the lorries were delayed by half an hour. His supervisor scheduled Nat for overtime, appointed him to receive the delivery, and went home. Nat could see researchers, lab assistants and office clerks leave the ground, when the lorry approached, and most windows on the facade of the main building were already dark. The guards at the gates let the lorry inside, and Nat signed the receipt as usual. A few large canisters had to be transported to the assigned shelves, and it took some time. Nat had prepared to turn the lights out and lock the building, when he had heard the strange sound further away in the labyrinthic system of subterraneous passageways. He turned around a corner, became aware of the pungent smell of some sort of gas or vapour, and then the bright, blue light exploded before him, and everything turned black. What had happened? And how had he ended up at his own flat? He felt sweaty, tired and hungry. He moved his fingers and toes. Legs and arms. Probably nothing broken. He tried to rise, and felt slightly dizzy. Time? His phone told him it was 5.20. a.m. He hadn't eaten since the accident, and felt more hungry than usual. His feet touched the floor, and he went to the kitchen. The cold, white light of streetlights projected a square of light on the kitchen floor. He peeked into the refrigerator: Two hardboiled eggs left from yesterday's breakfast. A package of cottage cheese. Salami. A bottle of milk. He peeked into the cupboard: Bread, three bananas. His headache didn't feel like it would appreciate more light, so he devoured the food without turning the light on. He finished his night meal with three pints of non-fizzy mineral water. The headache decreased, but he felt sore in all his muscles. He needed more sleep, and returned to bed. Sleep returned, but not the black unconsciousness of the past hours of night: Now he dreamed. The memory of the smell and the bright blue light returned and was repeated in his dreams, again and again, but he also felt heavy in a pleasant way – a feeling of being physically present in a way he never had been before: Anchored in the present, occupying more space than before, some sort of calm, joyful confidence. The pleasant state of the dream continued. Heavy. Present. Occupying space. He woke up with morning wood. The sun had risen. He felt hungry. It must have been only a few hours since his night meal, but he felt intense and ravenous hunger. Drowsily, he walked to the kitchen, but it felt like his legs didn't want to obey him. His balance was different than usual, His arms fluttered unfamiliarly in the air, when he regained his balance. Still drowsily, he ransacked the refrigerator and the cupboard for food. Silly: His tiredness caused him to imagine his hands to be bigger than usual. He boiled all the eggs left and made a porridge of oat flakes. An old jar of whey protein stood on a shelf, still unused because of his irregular and scattered gym routine. He mixed a protein drink and drank it all. After the unusually early breakfast, he returned to bed. He felt satisfied, warm, surrounded by the bedsheets and his sleepiness returned. A comfortable heat spread in his body. He smiled and relaxed, close to sleep. Then the comfortable heat intensified, and the feeling of soreness returned to his muscles. Half asleep, he flexed his arms, his legs and his glutes. His muscles felt unusually hard. Strange. He was probably still dreaming. The pleasure intensified. He emitted a little yelp, and returned to dream-sleep: He dreamed, that he grew, and that he outgrew the surrounding buildings, towering over the city and then floating out into outer space, becoming big as a planet with enormous muscles. It felt great. His alarm clock and his mobile phone woke him up. Workday ahead. Shit. He felt strange after that accident. Tired. Needed more sleep to recover. He had to call his supervisor and tell what happened. Perhaps a doctor needed to examine him. Strange feeling. Tired and energetic at the same time. Powerful even. But sore. Sleep overwhelmed him, and he returned to sleep. He couldn't remember his dreams. It was thirst that awoke him. The sun shone from zenith, and Nat's mouth was dry as sandpaper. His throat felt weird and thick, like he had acquired an infection. Shit! The work! He should have been at work hours ago! He stumbled out to the kitchen, still unable to find his proper balance, and rank two pints of water. An unopened bottle of milk stood hidden behind a jar of pickled vegetables. He opened it and gulped it down. What was wrong with him? Then he felt the pressure in his bladder, and relieved himself in the bathroom. He turned around to face the bathroom mirror, jumped at the sight of a muscular gigantic man who had broke into his home, and almost fell to the floor. The big man jumped too. Nate arose and looked himself around. No man. Imagination. He faced the mirror, which seemed to have been moved, and hanged at a lower position than usual. He stared. He moved his right palm to his cheek, his brow and his temple, and continued to stare. He moved his palm to hhis chest, and explored his pecs. The giant in the mirror followed his movements. The giant in the mirror was himself. A feeling of pleasure arose, and spread in his entire body. There was a lot of brawn to spread into, and Nat liked the feeling. He watched himself in the mirror, squeezed his beefy pecs and continued to stare in disbelief. Yesterday evening, he had been of average build and 5'7''. Now, a tall bodybuilder stared back at him in the mirror, probably around 6'3''. Nat felt dizzy again. He knelt at the bathroom floor. The soreness of all his muscles returned again, and intensified into something that was close to pain, but was also accompanied with a feeling of power throbbing in his temples and in his ears. His breathing became more frequent. Waves of pleasure engulfed him. He couldn't concentrate. He could feel his bone structure re-arrange itself, but the pleasure took the brunt of the growth pains. Scraping sounds of bone tissue and a sickening wet sound of muscle fibres caused a brief wave of nausea, but then the waves of pleasure returned again, more intense now. He could feel himself expand in every direction: His chest deeper, his spine taller, his legs, arms and shoulders rounder and fuller – able to lift weights of powerlifters or strongman competitors. An empowering and encouraging feeling of confidence grew in his chest and in his throat, and spread in his entire physical extention. He shivered and shuddered under the process, and felt weak of hunger. He knew his cupboard and refrigerator were empty now. He crawled to the kitchen and made a phone call to a super-market with home delivery, and he was mildly shocked by the deep timbre of his booming voice. He received the grocery delivery dressed in bedsheets, but his lack of clothes in the right size was still a future problem. He needed to eat. Eat more. Food. More food. Feed his muscles. Feed this muscle machine. Two omelettes. Two roasted chickens. A loaf of bread and three cans of tuna. He returned to the bathroom. He could watch himself grow at a visible rate, and it didn't matter, that he now only could think about his strength, his muscles, his power. 6'7''! 397 lbs! His quads were impressive, both in sheer mass and when it came to definition. An Apollo's belt was impossible to ignore under the six building blocks that were his abs, and drew attention to the V-shape formed by his narrow waist, steel-hard lats and wide shoulders. The sight of himself flexing his football sized biceps caused him to lose his mind in ecstatic rapture. His traps were cartoonish, and his shoulders like volley balls. A big protein drink. A BCAA soft drink. More water. Lots of water. His brawn craves food. Build more muscle. Build more. Building perfection! Yeah! 6'9''! 452 lbs! Yes! Look at me! He wanted to remove the dried sweat from last night, and took a shower. He caressed his still growing shape with shower gel, and let the warm water drizzle down his titanic back. His body convulsed in pleasure. He dried himself on a towel, which felt too small for his new size, and he returned to the mirror and the bathroom scales, mesmerized. 6'11''! 496 lbs! More! Still growing! Lost in bliss and revelry over his incomprehensible gains, the young titan wasn't aware of the desperate knocks on his door: "Nat? This is Dr. MacKenzie from work. I want to ensure that you are ok. An accident happened at the lab yesterday night, and we want to run some tests."
  10. Chapter six is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13390-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-six/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter Seven It was an hour later. Despite the fight with the police officers, his Master had found the information he needed, and The Master had given an order. Jack left the university building, hesitated for a moment, but he knew what to do. Dazed, his powerful mass walked through the nocturnal, desterted streets stained by drizzling, glistening rain, and he returned to The Steel Factory. The door was unlocked, but the illumination by the entrance was out of order. The dim light from a vendor machine and the tanning department drove away the darkness of the night, and it seemed like some of the LED lamps upstairs had recovered from Kortoth-Gnaah’s powerblast, since a mild golden light streamed down the staircase. The titanic warrior, which had once been Jack, ascended the stairs. * * * It wasn’t fair. He was the most muscular bro at campus, and it wasn’t fair. Was the most muscular bro. Was. Wasn’t anymore. Hot water was streaming down Cody’s back, where he sat in the locker-room shower. Cody wallowed in self-pity, and he hated himself for doing it. He was supposed to be self-confident, and his best mate Jack had jokingly rebuked him now and then for being ’too cocky’. Like he treated Tiny Tim in the past. Tiny Tim, who wasn’t tiny anymore. The war-god had chosen Tim, not Cody. Cody’s guts felt cold and something twisted inside. He wasn’t used to feel like this, like some sense of safety and security had been robbed from him. Taken away from him. By Tim. Big Tim, now. By the war-god. His dick twitched. By seeing his best mate Jack become godlike. Hot water streamed down his back, and splashed on his slowly engorging cock. The sight of the other young men in the gym becoming beings from a barbarian-movie… Cody shivered. He felt devastated. Hot water drizzling on his naked, tanned and smooth skin. Icy vulnerability inside. His dick shrunk and became limp again. Vulnerability. He heard the door to the locker-room. He didn’t want to be seen like this. Usually, he was the king of the locker-room, playing silly pranks, slapping other guys with his towel. Even gave someone a wedgie once, in the beginning, but never repeated it, since Jack called it ’immature’. Steps in the locker-room. Cody wanted to disappear. Not to be seen. He arose from the floor tiles, fumbling for something to grasp, and burned himself lightly on a hot-water pipe. The shower steamed, streamed and drizzled. When he looked up from his burned palm, he saw Jack. The new improved Jack. Like standing before Conan. Or He-Man. But not drawn. But in the flesh. Steel-hard, bulging flesh. Jack. Best mate, Jack. Jack still had the same, friendly eyes as usual. As before. But his gaze looked strangely off, like he was hypnotised. The shower wettened Jack’s fur-cape. He throw it out from the shower area, into the space for the lockers. ”Hello Cody.” The fully dressed Jack stood in front of the entirely naked Cody. Vulnerability. Cody fumbled, and turned the shower off. ”Are you… Are you yourself, Jack?” ”i am still myself, Cody, but I am also something more. I have tasted the power of Kortoth-Gnaah. The Master knows my thoughts and my feelings, and The Masters commands are resounding in my mind.” ”You look awesome, bro.” Jack flexed his exposed arms. Veins crawled. Jack’s mountainous bicepses grew. Jack’s powerful tricepses perfected the impression of muscular strength. Friendship, envy and some sort of unutterable lust competed for Cody’s attention. His dick awakened again, and embarrassment was added to his emotional turmoil: No homo! ”I wish I could have joined you.” ”I am sorry, Cody, but you have always been an individualist. The men of Anghra-Lemur are parts of a tribe. You have to be loyal to the tribe.” ”So that is what is all about: Loyalty to the tribe?” ”Do you want to fight the enemies of the The Master together with all members of the tribe?” Cody’s face expressed several feelings: Yes! Loyalty to a tribe! Belonging! One in the team! But not together with Tim. And definitely not together with his rival, Magnussen. Jack watched him. Cody watched Jack. In the steamy shower area, Jack was beginning to emit scents: Furs wet from rainwater and hot steam. Bronze chainmail slowly turning into verdigris. The leather clothes of a barbarian. Male sweat. His best friend was so close now. He tried to think on something to let that boner disappear, but he couldn’t concentrate. ”You are who you are, Cody, but when The Master gave me an order, I got an idea. Forget what I said about the tribe, but would you fight the enemies together with me? Do you wish to join me?” ”Hell, yeah, bro! Why do you ask? You know what I want and what I wish. You are my best mate, ever.” A brief hesitation shadowed Jack’s brow for a second, then he changed posture. ”Then, trust me. Dont be afraid. I’m sorry for how this must be done. Goodbye, Cody. You had your quirks, but they were your quirks. The quirks of a very good friend. I’m so sorry I will no more see you face to face.” ”What do you mean, no more see me? What do…” Jack took a step forward. Cody could feel the big, warm paw of the barbarian of Anghra-Lemur on his shoulder, and he felt close to his friend. Then, the other big hand surrounded Cody’s throbbing cock, and Cody’s eyes widened. ”Wait, bro. No homo. I’m…” He could feel it. Something strange was happening. He felt weaker. He couldn’t protest against Jack’s unheard of behaviour. He couldn’t understand what was happening. He looked up in Jack’s worrying, warm, friendly eyes. Seconds went by. Then, it slowly dawned what was happening. He was shrinking. His once so beefy chest was imploding, and his usually brawny arms were becoming the arms of a pipsqueak. His abs became more visible, but his legs were becoming chicken-legs. He wavered, and Jack’s grip around his dick disappeared, now steadying Cody from falling. ”Wait! Jack! What’s happening? What are you doing? Don’t do this to me! My gains! You are robbing me of my gains!” Gently, Jack lowered Cody to the floor, and sat on Cody’s knees. He loosened the leather straps, that kept the chainmail together around his neck, and he took the chainmail off, shovering it outside into the locker area. Then his leather-trimmed linen vest, exposing his powerful naked chest, and his steel-hard abs. Jack’s entire torso throbbed by power, and sweat was trickling from his temples. Cody felt entirely powerless. The icon of masculinity, which was his best friend, had him subdued, and the grip around his shoulder and dick returned. There was nothing he could do to stop it. The barbarian robbed him of his gains and drained him of muscular strength. One part of his mind screamed in utmost fear, but another part of him saw the visage of what he had once dreamed of becoming, his best friend, now growing even more massive and powerful. His cock became harder in the grip of his best friend, the steel titan. ”No, Jack! I don’t want to… Jack! Listen to me! I want to keep my gains! My muscles… They are disappearing… No! Jack, this feel… So weak now… Don’t… My…” Still the feeling of care and consideration in Jack’s eyes, despite this brutal subjection of his best friend. Jack’s face expressed concern, but the loving gaze was increasingly mixed with the facial expressions of an intoxicating power-craze. ”I am sorry, Cody. I’m sorry, but this was the only way. I have to obey The Master. I must obey him. I must assimilate you! We will be together for ever. Can’t believe how this feel! Your strength!” The barbarian of Anghra-Lemur sat on the heap of skin and bones, that once had been Cody. Cody’s dick was still throbbing in the firm grip of the barbarian, and Cody’s fear had turned into insane rambling. ”Yes! Look at you! You are more powerful than ever. That strength! Those arms! These pecs! My muscle mass added to your’s. Assimilate me, Master! Let me feed your muscular brawn! Let me…” Cody’s complexion turned from his usual handsome tan into the greyish hue of someone close to death. The once powerful dudebro was a haggard skeleton, with sunken eyes peeking out from deep sockets. A mist of lucent green sparks had began to arise from Cody’s corpse-like shape, and the barbarian thrived of this life-force. Jack’s entire torso throbbed of strength and vitality, his bronzed complexion glistening of sweat. The lucent green sparks grew in number and intensity. With a weak yelp, the last life-force left Cody: ”Best mate.” In the next second, Jack could feel Cody’s cock ejaculating in his fist, and he could feel all remaining traces of Cody becoming lucent green sparks. He inhaled, and the sparks enterd into his system, becoming one with him. Jack shivered. Cody. Best mate. He could feel his body engorge, as the orgasm of his muscle-drained friend transmuted into testosterone-crazed muscle-ecstacy. He buzzed and brimmed of life-force and muscular strength. It was even more intense, than his initial transformation into one of the men of Anghra-Lemur. He opened his eyes. No traces of Cody. He sighed in relief. He hadn’t been sure of how this would work. He arose, but left his clothes in the locker-room. He wanted to see the result. He went into the weight room, turned towards the mirrors and took the sight of himself in. Whooah! He looked bigger, indeed! He hadn’t known what to expect of the merge of two muscular men into one. He felt a weird urge to feel the weights, and went to the leg press: 200 kilo grammes. No it wasn’t enough. 250, 300, no – 425 kilo grammes! He repeated the reps. Again. Again. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Eleven reps. 425 kilo grammes. Oh. The pump. The pump in his legs! And his chest. His pecs. They screamed for the weights. For the steel. One hundred isn’t enough. Two hundred. Two hundred and seventyfive: 275 kilo grammes! Again. And again. Eight. Nine. Another one! Yes! Ten! Ten reps at 275 kilo grammes. Tearing his pecs apart, letting the blood flood his pecs, infusing them with pump and power. He approached the stand, and picked a pair of dumbbells up. Sixty kilogrammes. Nope, too light-weight. ONE HUNDRED kilogrammes each! Yeah! That felt better. He began his biceps curls. Yes! Another curl! Tearing his muscle fibres apart, preparing for more growth. Another one! Five, six, seven reps. More! Blood began to stream to his newly trained legs and chest. And to his biceps, as he pumped the iron, causing his biceps to become more filled with blood. Another set. Yes! It felt amazing. A feeling of pump different from any time before. His quads and hamstrings were becoming steel-hard, and his chest felt like the bow of a massive ice breaker, ready to crush icebergs as his mighty hulk (in the original sense of the word) unstoppably moved forward. A third set. A fourth. ONE HUNDRED kilo grammes! … Six, seven, eight, nine, ten, uh, to failure! Eleven! He dropped the heavy dumbbells at the rubber-coated floor, and stared at himself in the mirror-coated wall, and he felt fresh blood stream into his biceps, and his entire musculature: A pump of delight. A peaceful mood spreading in his mind and his entire body. He stared. He liked what he saw. He took the sight of himself in. A brutally built warrior from Anghra-Lemur stared back at him in the mirror. The LED lights shone down at his body, enhancing the shapes and contrasts of his muscles, including the shadow under his two bulging hemispheric pecs. Jack still kept his usual boyishly charming looks, but already at his first transformation, a few hours ago, something more mature and fierce had emerged in his visage. Now, merged with Cody, something of Cody’s arrogant smirk could be hinted at in the corners of his mouth, and something had happened to his cheek and chin: The dimple Cody used to have in his chin was his now, and the dimples that used to become visible when Cody laughed, was his also, but his eyes were still his own: The eyes of gentleness. Whooah! He would never had described himself pretentiously like that… That was the expression Cody used once, when he was drunk, and let his tough-guy persona drop for a minute. Thinking about it, Jack usually didn’t spend much time in front of the gym mirrors. Unlike Cody. Perhaps he guessed right when he decided to assimilate Cody: Cody could have his wishes, after all? Perhaps he had assimilated more than Cody’s muscle mass? Perhaps… ”Bro. I’m here. Look at us!” Jack felt relief. It had worked. He felt the urge – Cody’s urge, which he now shared – to show off and watch himself. He took the sight of himself in, and shivered. A brutally built warrior from Anghra-Lemur stared back at him in the mirror. Yes, look at us! He swallowed. A being out of a cartoon for cheerfully adventure-loving boys; a being out of a fast-paced action film for young men with newly awakened testosterone; a being out of the never-gauged dark undersea trenches of the adult masculine mind looked back: Clad in furs and leather intentionally aimed, in the dreams of unknown older gods, to reveal the strength and prowess of the wearer, the brutally built warrior looked like something far beyond the imagined heroes of the silver screen and the telly. His bodily shape went beyond the impossibly built physiques of carefree cartoon heroes and toys from his childhood. His confident personal charisma went far beyond any action filmstar, and he had seen a similar unspoken threatening promise of potential brute force ready to spring into action among men with a past in the armed forces, but in his own case it was now heightened and multiplied beyond anything he had seen before, with one particular exception – Kortoth-Gnaah, The Master, the war-god of the Sunken Hundred. Since he had left his chainmail and his fur mantle in the locker room, his sun tanned torso was naked and exposed, his blood-filled muscles throbbing of muscular power beyond anything he had seen or felt before. He moved his palm to his left pec and squeezed. It was hard as steel. He let his pecs dance and jump, and stared in disbelief and delight. Fragments and remnants of Cody’s mind roared inside Jack’s soul, in ecstacy at their shared strength, and Jack allowed himself to be captured by Cody’s ecstatic roar. YES! ROOOAARR! Look at this! His palm and fingers explored the ravines between his abs, and he could feel his manhood awake inside his leather pouch. He flexed his right biceps and stared at it, then explored it with his lips, leaving it wet as he stared at it, mesmerised by his own might and size. Pleasure flowed slowly and delightfully through his veins as golden honey, and the unburning flames of raw, primal and undiluted masculine power flickered in his engorged muscles, from his monumental legs and power stoking loins, to his uncrushable abs, well-defined obliques, pumped pecs, mountainous traps and bulging arms. ROOOAARR! Look at this! A barbarian warrior who would take Conan or He-Man down, if they had existed. Maculinity incarnate. He wasn’t strong: He was Strength itself! He wasn’t muscular: He was Muscle itself. He wasn’t powerful: He was Power itself! The pump! Incredible! His muscles recovering impossibly fast from his sets with the steel! The pleasure flowing inside him! His mind bathing in pure testosterone… PURE TESTOSTERONE, bro! Do you feel, it Jack! Do you feel the same I feel? Do we share it? Engorged. Throbbing. The sound of his pulse in his ears. In his temples. Yes, Cody, I feel it. He swallowed. THEY swallowed. Together. Jack with Cody. Cody with Jack. Sharing. This. This strength. This power. Fuck! Do you feel that, bro? Our strength. Our power. Our brawn. Their dick a steel rod now. Steel rod throbbing inside leather. Rubbing against the leather pouch. All these muscles. All this brawn. The veins. The testo. Our. Together. Look at that chest! Fuck! All this pump! Can’t believe it! More than… Oh! Oh, better than anything he could have… Look at this! Look at me! Look at this brutal fukker, no one will mess with… He took the sight of himself in, and touched his forearms. His veins crawled, more blood-filled and visible than ever. His muscles looked like they grew at a visible rate, bronzed, bulbous, steel-hard and shiny of sweat. The golden honey of pleasure turned into a stream of brutal empowerment, and he was afire with indomitable might. Uh. Indomitable might! Pure… un-di-lu-ted… mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… might… He was entranced by the sight of the being in the mirror that was himself. The rugged, stalwart, invulnearable, confident, leather-clad, martial brawn-beast built by bulging steel-brawn and pure… un-di-lu-ted… mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… might… Uhnnn! Brawn-beast! Took the sight of himself... in... Invulnerable! Bulging steel-brawn! Me! Us! That! Together! Best mate! Pure… un-di-lu-ted… Oh fuck! Can’t believe! Mas-cu-line… in-do-mi-ta-ble… Spasms of bliss exploded in their shared mind and in their shared body, and their steel-rod exploded inside the leather pouch. It took minutes for them to regain awareness of their surroundings. * * * Next chapter is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13595-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-eight/
  11. Greed Demon Pt.2

    A common misconception about incubi is that they are beings transitioning to demonhood. They are actually power reservoirs for demons, sin generators if you will. They are beings generating massive amount of Sin naturally that get enhanced by demonic energy, turning them into Sin factories to which demons tether to grow their power. They fall in the familiar category and as such they have to be declared to the Demonic Authorities and removed from their homeworld to be safely stashed into the Demonic Realm. ________________ Landon awoke a little before noon, still sticky from last night trade. Grossly comfy rolled in his blanket curled in a ball so that his feet didn’t dangle from the bedframe (which was unusual for him). His dick was rock hard, rubbing against his abs. He absentmindedly rubbed himself and was soon rewarded by roughly 3 cups of hot spunk, spreading on his belly, soaking through his blanket and mattress. Landon immediately regretted his orgasm as he realized he had ruined his bed. He tried to stand up and discard his blanket at the same time. He had a moment of vertigo as he stood up his full 6’8 (2m7 almost a foot taller than usual). He stumbled to maintain his balance, his rapidly deflating monstercock now free from the blanket burrito swayed between his legs sending fat drips of cum crashing noisily on the floor, carpet and nightstand. -”Fuck” he groaned looking at the mess he made. Landon was breathing hard, everything felt smaller than used to. His body was feeling heavy and stiff. His arms were pushing against his lats to go to the side of his body, his pecs were heavy on his torso, his genital weighing heavily from his crotch. He was too panicked by those new feelings to register how nice they felt to him. He made his way to his bathroom, his footsteps heavy on the wooden floor, his pecs bouncing up and down, his fat slick cock slapping on his thighs. As he turned on the light of the bathroom, his reflection became visible in the mirror. His face was more or less the same, with a very bad case of bed hair, but underneath that, his body was one of a gigantic competitive roided out bodybuilder with a tight waist and heavy cock and balls. The surreal events of the past night resurfaced. The insanely hot middle eastern man, the crazy steamy sex, the growth. It all felt impossible yet the memories were crystal clear and his body was proof enough. Landon was halfway between panic and ecstasy. He had a body he would never have dared dreamt of having but the change was so violent. He explored his body, awkwardly flexing, feeling himself. It wasn’t exactly like the man he fucked last night, Landons was more massive, more ripped, when relaxed it felt firmer and denser. He flexed, it was rock with a soft skin layer on top. As he cupped his pecs, lust took over. His cock inflated, reaching its hard footlong state, his balls dropped an inch lower swelling with seed. Landon stepped in the shower, his wrist-thick hardon leading the way. As he drew the shower curtain he realized how cramped it now felt . He bent as best he could to turn on the water. The sensations were so different from usual. He was so tall and wide that his body blocked the hot water from pouring over both side of his body. He had to turn around to get his back wet. He then grabbed his soap and started worship himself a he cleaned himself. He soon realised he could no longer reach his back, he had to contort to get to his ass to clean it. He was musclebound and it felt amazing. He stroked his dick while he rinsed himself and soon enough he orgasmed in his shower. Pumping a literal gallon of thick cum in his tub. It took him a solid minute to reel in from his earth shattering orgasm. He has basking in the hormone induced bliss occasionally giggling and shivering at the sensory overload. ________ -”What do you mean he’s gone?” She said. She was gorgeous, today she had the appearance of a flaming redhead in her late twenties, long slick deep red hair neatly parted on the side framing a perfectly regular heart-shaped face on which shone two emerald eyes adorned with a sixties’ like trait of black eyeliner. Her body was straight out of a retro pinup calendar and so was her black snakeskin faux vintage dress. She was Damon best friend and one of the most renowned Major Lust Demons, Lamia. -”He left while I was asleep” Damon said. He was feeling embarrassed, Lamia had dropped by his place to congratulate him. If anyone could help get his hand back on Landon it was her. So he had to tell Lamia the whole embarrassing story, and it wasn’t helping that after almost 24h of being in a sexued male body he was starting to think in terms of hes and shes. He hated those simplistic human genders but for now he’d have to roll with it. -”And this is why you leave Lust to Lust demons.” she said flatly after listening to the whole story. “Though I confess you did quite an amazing job creating your body, that is quite the honey pot.” she said with professional appraisal. “I‘d vouch for you. Should you ever apply to a position in the Lust departement… though you’d have to be able to handle an orgasm to work with us.” she said with a wry smile. -”Thanks for the compliment, but if I don’t find Landon fast I won’t be unemployed. I’ll be dead.” -”Landon?! Calling your pet by it’s name! That’s sooooo cute.” she roared with laughter. Damon felt himself blush. One more thing to hate about human bodies. -”Well, that’s quite simple.” she said. “Ignore the CDeA messages for now, they are slow. It’ll take them weeks to notice you’ve lost your unregistered incubus. Assuming he doesn’t make a mess nor does he pose an exposure threat. You’ll just need to retrieve him quickly and bring him back to the underworld with you.” -”That’s all fine and dandy, but how do I find him?” Damon said -”For fuck’s sake, you’re a hunter demon! Finding an incubus in the real world is like hunting a fucking blue whale in a bathtub. The hard part will be getting to him before another hunter demon does...” _________ Towelling up had been an ordeal for Landon but it was nothing compared to dressing up. Landon spent an hour going through his wardrobe before accepting that none of his clothes would decently and/or comfortably fit. None of the clothes that weren’t destroyed in the process of dressing up that is. He ended up wearing an old pair of black lycra pants he bought for the gym but never dared to wear and a grey tank top. The lycra pants were stretched to their limit, his skin was visible through the thinned out fabric. The waist would have been comfy enough if it wasn’t for his huge package pushing at the front. He had to go commando and he was giving major dickprint. The tank top was simply ridiculous, stopping a few inches under his pecs, it looked like a 90’s crop top. But he couldn’t do any better with only his own clothes. Making a phone call wasn’t exactly easy either. Landon managed to make his boss’ number after 5 attempts, his enlarged fingertips pressing multiple numbers every time. He then found out that thanks to his biceps and shoulders he couldn't comfortably get the phone to his ear. He had to put it on speaker. -”Yes Landon, what is it?” came the annoying voice of his boss -”Er, hey Jeremy. Yeah… I might be a bit late this morning.” stuttered Landon “I have a little health issue I need to take care of this morning.” -”You ok? You sound terrible.” said jeremy flatly -”Well I need to get a few things sorted ASAP. But I’m ok, I’m not contagious or anything. I’ll be there mid morning. I’ll catch up those hours.” -”Yeah don’t worry, take your time. See you later.” Jeremy said as he hung up. Landon was relieved, that went better than expected. Given the fact that his boss was the kind of toxic tyrannic power crazed psycho rigid asshole, it definitely went better than expected. As soon as he left the house to go clothes shopping, Landon became conscious of how exposed and obscene he was looking, but also of how hungry he was. He decided to go to his favorite coffee shop on the corner of the street. He was grabbing coffee and breakfast there almost every morning and had a crush on the cute guy taking his order. He was both scared and excited to show his new body to the cutie behind the desk but in the end hunger prevailed. Turned out the cute guy didn’t even recognized him and worst than that, he wasn’t impressed by Landon. Ill at ease, slightly disgusted but definitively not impressed. Landon was sitting on a corner of the coffee shop with a huge ass bucket of coffee and a tray full of pastries (3 cinnamon roll, 4 cream filled donuts and 2 deep fried apple pie pockets) stuffing his face and trying to ignore the off put faces of the patrons and staff. He had polished off his tray in a just few minutes and left in a hurry. His belly had slightly rounded outward with all the food but he wasn't satisfied. All the greed inside him making him want more food to feed his body. On his way to the store he stopped by a fitness and bodybuilding supplement store. As he walked in the guy behind the counter gawked at him. He made his way to a fridge where protein bars and drink were stocked. -”Can I help you dude?” ask the cashier. -”Yeah,” answered Landon “Just had breakfast but it wasn’t really enough. I’m looking for something to get my fill with”. He said rubbing his little belly. -”Well those are non dairy protein drink made for slow absorption it’ll help you feel satiated. And the chocolate peanut butter bars just there are super tasty and will give you a bit of sugar and fast absorption proteins.” said the guy. Landon was looking at the items and at the young guy from the store. His name tag said Garry. Not exactly handsome, or pretty, or cute. Rather ugly actually but the sort of ugly guy that groomed and styled himself thoroughly and hit the gym religiously hoping that beefing up would get them laid. An excellent strategy Landon thought, he had a soft spot for that kind of guy. He guessed Garry was around 190 lbs of shredded muscle. He felt himself start to chub. -”Sounds cool, I’ll have both.” he said while grabbing a gallon of the drink and dozen of chocolate bars. They proceed to the counter, Garry literally drooling over the massive Landon. Landon paid while chewing on two protein bars at the same time. -”Mind If I drink a bit now? I really need it.” Landon said uncorking the gallon of protein drink. The cashiers shook his head as Landon started chugging down the thick sickening vanilla flavored drink. Garry had come around from behind the desk and was standing next to Landon watching in awe as the muscle giant’s belly stretched further. He laid his hand on Landon unable to resist the god in front of him. Landon looked down on his little worshipper and raised and flexed an arm. Garry moaned and suddenly he was aware of the monster tenting Landon’s lycra. He stared mouth agape. Landon chuckled stuffing 3 more bars in his mouth while pulling on his lycra to free his monster cock. Gary started massaging Landon, his muscles, his cock. Kissing the foot long monster, the muscles. Garry who had always identified as straight was ecstatic to feel all those muscles all that manliness. Landon finished the drink and tossed the empty bottle while stuffing the remaining bars in his mouth one after the other. He was stuffed. It all felt so good, he let himself go and rewarded his worshipper with a copious load of cum (while garry blew a little wad in his own pants). His gut receded as his body spasmed, dispatching all the matter in his belly toward his muscles. According to the pact with Damon, his greed was being rewarded with more muscle. And as he reached 363 lbs (165kg) his lycra finally tore giving way to his 34 inch quads (83cm) and his tank top ripped as his pecs grew until his chest reached a whopping 63 inches (1m58). Garry was so engrossed into worshiping the massive monster that he didn’t even realized Landon had grown right in front of him. -”I’m gonna need some gym clothes too.” said Landon still catching his breath “the biggest baggiest you have lil dude”. ________ Damon felt the orgasm like it was his. It actually was his orgasm too, he had a copious sticky mess on his jeans crotch to attest it. He had connected with Landon as the man climaxed. He had seen it all. The store, the fit worshipper, the ruined carpet… and he knew exactly where Landon was at that very moment. -”Got you.” he said to himself. He rapidly changed clothes and left for the real world, hoping to catch the trail before it got cold. ________ Landon was looking into a mirror in the big and tall store. The mood wasn’t the same as in the supplement store. The clerk beside him was nervous and having a hard time hiding how offput he was by Landon massive body. Landon was equally uneasy, his new size made him very self-conscious. He was so obvious, so sexual and he had no idea how to deal with it when people weren’t worshiping him. Which would be most of the time given the nasty stares he got since this morning. The new outfit wasn’t really helping, he had ditched the oversized shorts and string top bought hastily before leaving the supplement store for a more professionally appropriate attire. And though it was the best that could be done it was hardly professional and hardly appropriate. The light blue shirt had to be open to the middle of his pecs preventing him from wearing a tie, it was clinging to his body, making every muscle painfully obvious. The dark blue slacks were comfy though stretched over his massive legs like yoga pants. The outfit was complete with black leather shoes the clerk had to tie for Landon because he couldn't reach his feet. -”That’ll have to do.” Landon said. -”We can have the extra shirts and pants by Wednesday.” said the clerk “They’ll fit your frame better and you should be able to close the collar for a tie. By the way we do have safety ties to clip on the collar, it might helpful since ...errr…. you can not… reach.. Your neck…” he ended awkwardly as they walked (swayed in Landon’s case) to the cash desk. -”That is a good idea. Can you get me three in different colors?” Landon said blushing. He paid for his order, collected a paper bag with his gym clothes and made a beeline for the subway to get to work. It was a rather unpleasant trip. Everything felt too small and cramped. People were staring disapprovingly, muttering nasty comments and avoiding him. To make thing worst he broke his phone. He’d griped the thing a bit too strong while trying to answer a call. The damn thing got crushed like an empty beer can at a frat party. Probably his furious boss anyway. ________ The smell of semen was still lingering in the store, despite the efforts of Garry to mop the floor with a liberal amount of bleach. He was sweaty from the worship session and from all the cleaning afterward. He was pondering on what this morning’s session meant about his sexuality when a man barged in the store. The already sexually confused Garry felt himself get hard as he watched the middle eastern guy that had just came in. He was big (though nothing like the man this morning), gorgeous and so magnetic. -”Hello sir.” he said with a deep soothing voice “I’m looking for an unusually large man that visited your store today”. He produced a police badge and showed it to Garry. He looked thoroughly at the fit clerk, a look that meant “I-know-he-was-here-and-I-know-what-you-did”. The man radiated charm and authority. Garry was painfully hard and wet and his brain starting to play fantasies of being dominated by this man. He gulped hard, trying to focus to answer the man in front of him. -”Y-yes… d-did he d-d-do anything b-bad?” Garry stuttered. -”No but I need to find him quick for his own safety.” -”He-he d-did f-fill a-f-f-f-form fo-f-for a loyalty c-card.” Garry said. Proud to obey and be useful, he went to his computer searching for Landon’s entry. The man moved right behind him; much closer than necessary. Garry could feel the guy’s sizeable package nestle right above his own perky ass. The guy was looking past Garry’s shoulder at the screen. Garry could feel the guy hot breath on his neck. The big guy put his hand on the one Garry had on the mouse, browsing the form by using Garry’s own hand. -”Good. That’ll help me a lot. Thank you” he purred in Garry’s ear. He left leaving Garry out of breath and ready to burst behind his desk. Once in the street the guy took out his police badge. It shifted form and became a phone, he searched for Lamia in the contacts of the phone and send her the coordinates of the store and a message: Check that place for a nice beefy closeted submissive bi guy ripe for harvesting. Have fun Still smiling to himself he dialed Landon’s number. It rang a few time, there was some commotion and then it disconnected. He re-dialed, but the call ended straight to voicemail. Damon sighed, he still had Landon’s address. ________ The security guys at the entrance of the building had looked at him suspiciously, the receptionist couldn’t hide how disgusted she was when he greeted her, and his colleagues simply gasped and stared. Landon didn’t even make it to his cubicle after reaching his floor. Landon wanted to rush to his cubicle and hide there but he was intercepted by Jeremy. Jeremy wasn’t very much wider than one of Landon’s legs. Not very much taller either. Yet Landon felt his heart sink as his boss did a double take seeing the recently overgrown Landon. -”Landon, glad to see you’re doing fine and you’re finally with us.” Jeremy said without breathing and with an absolute disregard for punctuation. -”Morning. Yeah sorry I had…” -”Can you come to my office? Now.” Jeremy interrupted. He had a blank stare, lost way behind Landon, his smile automatic and utterly out of place on his otherwise closed face. That wasn’t good. Landon sheepishly followed his boss toward the glass office at the other end of the floor. He was now seeing the cubicles from above and that new point of view was particularly depressing. His colleague were looking at him with worry, disgust, disbelief or a mix of all three. Part of him was amused to allow the monster he was to be bossed around by the puny asshole in an ill-tailored suit strutting in front of him. They entered Jeremy’s office, he closed the door and the blind behind Landon and gestured for him to sit in the chair facing his desk. Said chair creaked under Landon’s weight and much to Jeremy’s annoyance he was almost eye level with Landon now that he was seated. Jeremy half sat nonchalantly on his desk trying and failing to look relaxed and assertive. -”You know why you’er here Landon.” Jeremy said. -”I took too long this morning?” Landon asked as innocently as he could. Jeremy let an annoyed sigh escape him. His face was contorting trying not to show how offput he was by Landon. -”Listen, I’m gonna have to let you go. We can’t have you roaming around the office like… *annoyed gesture in Landon general direction* that!” -”Ha. Yes.” Landon answered. “I’m sorry about the outfit, I can’t find my size off the racks. But I’m getting tailored outfits later this week so...” -”Don’t…” Jeremy interrupted. “I don’t want to hear any excuses. I don’t care about you getting outfits to cover *another indescriptible gesture toward Landon* this! We can’t have you around the office like that, period. Have you seen the commotion you caused when you arrived? No one inflates over night like you did. Need I remind you that we got a very strict no-drug policy that you signed when we hired you. So you can leave now or we can have a mandatory drug check before kicking your freak ass out of here.” Landon slowly stood up and took a step forward jeremy. He was towering over Jeremy menacingly. Tilted his head down to look his boss in the eyes, his wide shoulders rolled forward forming a closed space around his boss and his pecs bunched up giving his body an intimidating shape. Jeremy felt his heart sink, Landon smiled softly. God he was gonna love that . -”Bring the cup that I need to pee in buddy” he said softly almost seductively “Make that a bucket actually cause you got that freak part right. Guess what? You won’t find any drugs or shit in it. You think I’m high on roids? Bad news buddy, I’m not. I wouldn’t be growing that fast if I was and yes buddy, I’m probably not done growing. I know you already find me disgustingly big.” Landon loomed closer to Jeremy “but more than disgusted you’re frightened. Frightened that the illusion of power you had over me is gone. Now, it’s just you versus me with raw physical force. And, buddy, it ain’t looking that good for you.” Landon leaned further in, laying his palm on the desk each side of Jeremy. Bringing his muscular body just a few inches of his boss. The power he had at this moment was intoxicating. He wanted more. ”If you’re scared and grossed out now buddy, just wait till I grow even bigger. Maybe you’ll even see it with your own eyes. Actually… I think I’m about to make an example… unnnnghh” The greed inside Landon swelled up Landon’s speech was rewarded by the weirdly recognisable sound of a grown up pissing himself. That wet cascading muffled sound of a pint of piss soaking through business slack and dripping on a cheap office carpet. Landon straightened himself taking a step back, looking triumphantly down on Jeremy. -”I think I’ll take my afternoon then.” smiled Landon “You cover me for skipping work and I’ll cover you for pissing yourself. See you tomorrow morning boss and don’t forget the bucket, I would hate to further ruin your office carpet.” Landon left the glass office with a big smile on his face and spring in his step. His heavy pecs bounced in rhythm. It felt so good he was oblivious to all the stares he got from his coworkers. Going home seemed like the best course of action. He wanted out of his clothes, to maybe rub one out, or ten and rest. He was pondering last night, thinking he shouldn't have left Damon’s place, that guy ought to know what happened, he might have even helped Landon get more. But Landon had been beside himself after sex and the end of the evening still felt surreal and blurry. As he entered his flat he had made up his mind, he’d go back to the bar he was in the night before and try to find Damon. He was so into his head that he didn’t notice straight away the muscular figure sprawled on his couch. -”You’re home early honey. Lucky me.” purred Damon. -”hehehe. Lucky you indeed.” growled Landon. Not bothering to understand how and why Damon was in his living room, Landon pounced on the hunky demon, kissing him deeply and ripping his clothes from his body. ________ Garry was closing his store, he had waited for this moment the whole day. He had noted Landon’s phone number from his loyalty registration form. He dialed the number and was crestfallen to end straight on voicemail. Before the recorded message ended he felt someone grabbing his phone from him, softly but firmly, irresistibly. He turned around and was suddenly facing a man as massive as Landon was. Impossibly tall wide and muscular. He was a Gorgeous red hair with emerald green eyes.He was so stunning, his crisp white t-shirt emphasizing the volumes of his chest and his tight raw jeans hugging his monster legs and cupping an obscene bulge. Garry didn’t notice the odd and out-of-style snakeskin boots the man wore. The muscular giant was looking down on Garry smiling warmly as he hung up the call and handed the phone back to Garry. -”Forget about that Landon dude. He isn’t for you. But don’t be sad cutie. I’d be happy to take care of you.” Lamia said tentatively.
  12. Muscle Pack- MGSS

    Hello everyone. Here again with another Short Story provided by Captain Muscle. I hope I was able to do this story justice with the editing. Enjoy! Muscle Pack by Captain Muscle So there’s this urban legend about this video. I’m not really sure what it shows cause I’ve never seen it. I heard about it a week ago and have been obsessed with trying to find it ever since. All I heard is that it will change my life! I’ve also heard stories about what it does to people. It was used to make super soldiers for the military however it changed more than just the soldier’s physical appearance. So they scrapped the project. But the rumors are that a scientist made a copy of this “video” and put it on the net. So I’ve been looking for said video since then. RING…. RING…. RING…. I reached for my cell and tapped the Answer button. “Hello?” “Is this Jake?” The mysterious voice said “Ye…. yes, this is, who’s this?” I say. “Never mind that I have what you’ve been looking for. I sent an encrypted email. one warning however! This “video” will WILL change you in more ways than one. It’s also VERY contagious.” CLICK “Hello?? HELLO??!!” “Fucker hung up!” Even with the mysterious guys warning I still wanted to check out the “video”. But I was still a little hesitant, I mean what was it going to do or change and what did he mean by contagious? I opened my email and saw the email with a zip file attached. I saved the zip file to my computer just in case anything happened to the email. I was shaking with excitement as the file unzipped. I backed up the zipped file and opened the folder with the video. The video was labeled Growth.m4v, and I doubled clicked on it. It started with a large man sitting down naked, he grabbed his hard cock and started to masturbate. He looked at the camera and said “GROW!” That’s when I went into a trance and unzipped my fly and noticed my cock was hard as steel. Throbbing and pulsing with pre cum dripping from the pulsing head. The guy on the video kept saying “GROW” as he was pumping his cock. With each time he said the word a pulse shot through me with my muscles flexing and unflexing. He started saying it faster and faster and I kept throbbing and pulsing. Still in a trance my muscles started expanding and growing all over my body. I was growing and growing as cum was shooting out of my steel cock. Muscle growing onto muscle, my biceps growing so large that a split peak was forming. Quads so large I would no longer be able to wear pants or boxers. Pecs so thick and full of muscle they looked like I could milk them. The video finally ended and I was finally out of the trance. I shook my head like I had been asleep for years. I lifted my heavy arm to my forehead and saw my massive bicep bulge and a split peak pop into view. I shot up and turned to look in the mirror and saw my cock flopping around swinging like a pendulum. “HOLY SHIT IT’S FUCKIN’ HUGE!” I grabbed it and went stiff as a board as the feeling of my hand touching my now gigantic cock shot right through me with a jolt of sexual pleasure so hard that I shot a massive load all over the mirror and floor. “Shit! That was amazing! What the hell happened, that video turned me into a freak.” I started feeling my huge ass pecs and my extremely cut abs. “Fuck my lats are just SO wide! I look fucking hot!” KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK…. “Hey Jake it’s me, Guy! Your dad let me in.” Guy just walked right in on all my muscle and cock hanging out. “FUCKING HELL JAKE what happened to you!” Guy walked toward me as he slipped on my cum from earlier and fell getting it all over him. I saw the cum disappear into him like it was being absorbed. He went into a trance like I did earlier and unzipped his fly as his cock popped out dripping cum. He then started repeating what the guy on the video was saying. “GROW, GROW, GROW, GROW!” I went into another trance as Guy was repeating that word. Growing all while my cock was spurting cum all over the place. Guy finally reaching where I was growth wise earlier was now out of the trance along with me. “Dude what the fuck! I’m HOT, so are you master!” Master? What the hell? “Guy you ok?” “Master you made me I’m your beta you’re my alpha. I obey you.” I kind of shake my head in a “what the fuck is happening” kind of way. OK so a few things. When someone touches my cum they start to go through what Guy went through. Then they join my what? Pack? I kind of laughed out loud thinking to myself; “The Muscle Pack”. “Guy scoop up the remaining cum into that water bottle, we got some betas to make.” “Yes Master!” “Don’t call me that, call me Jake like you always used to like pre muscle.” I kind of rolled my eyes. “Yes Mast……. I mean Yes Jake!” I jogged down the steps into the kitchen with Guy behind me. My dad was making breakfast not even realizing that I’m now way larger than a super heavyweight bodybuilding and not wearing any clothing. “Hey Son you hungry!? Got scrambled eggs and bacon.” Guy quickly ran up to him and dumped some of my Cum on him. “HEY GUY What the fuck!!?” “Sorry Jake but you said you wanted to make more Betas. Plus, your Dad is really hot!” “True we need more Betas but I wasn’t planning on making my Dad one. On a side note EW that you find him……I’m not gonna even say that word and my Dad in the same sentence.” What I didn’t realize was that Guy had also immediately imprinted on my Dad upon entering the kitchen. After Twilight I don’t think I need to explain what “Imprinting” is. Guy was really just looking to make his soulmate like him. My Dad was locked in a trance and jacking off as he started saying that word like Guy did earlier. “GROW, GROW, GROW, GROW!” Muscles everywhere exploding like Guy’s did earlier. As Guy bent over to make sure my now massive Dad was ok I found myself staring at Guy’s now incredibly muscular bubble butt. My cock starting to plump up and harden the longer I stared. I looked away and to make my cock stop. Thankfully my Dad came out of his trance as my 2nd beta in my “Muscle Pack”. “Master thank you for this gift!” “Dad PLEASE for the love of God please don’t call me Master! It’s really gross, just call my son or Jake.” “Ok son thank you for this amazing gift.” He turned and looked at Guy and they stared at each other for what seemed like hours. They then started making out right there in the kitchen. “Mr. Kennedy you’re so hot I just can ‘t even!” “Guy I’ve always found you to be quite handsome. Now I need to plow your muscular ass RIGHT NOW!” He turned Guy around and shoved his rock hard ramrod into Guy’s egger ass. Pumping into and out with pre splashing all over the place. Well those 2 did that I had to plan what to do next and to understand what exactly is going on here.
  13. Greed Demon Pt.1

    The Demonic Realm is quite straightforward. Think of it as a firm whose aim is to rake in as much sin as they can. It’s their currency. And yes their direct competition is a Divine Realm thriving on benevolence. The agents of both realms blend in with human society and meddle with the lives of everyday people to serve the interest of their own kind. Not to bore you with the details but here is a quick overview of the Demonic Realm: There are Major, Superior and Inferior Demons which indicate their potential for harm (there is also the supremes but you’re unlikely to cross paths with one. They can not manifest physically in the human world, least they destroyed it). They assume various functions, pretty much like the human society (and yes they have demonic IT guys… If you have ever dealt with an IT service you don’t need any proof). And there are seven main branches. One per deadly sin, obviously. You’d think gay clubs and bar would attract Lust demons and you’d be right. But what Landon was looking that night was a Greed Demon. And he couldn’t tear his eyes from it. It was a Hunter Greed Demon to be precise. A Bloodhound trained to track greed in men’s hearts and nurture it to cash in a much sin as they could. Think of it as a demonic salesman. There's an army of them trying to feed of our worst traits (just like ad there's an army of Hunter Angels trying to turn us into self-righteous dicks. Yes, they both suck). The demon seated at the bar had picked Greed because it was fun. One day you’d be messing with traders in the finance district, the next you’d be taking care of a fat bastard at all you can eat buffet. Greed was so deeply rooted in mankind and took so many forms that it knew it would never get bored and that it could find more exotic forms of greed to have fun once in awhile. Landon was seated alone at a small table in a corner of the bar. The demon had smelt his greed a few weeks ago while bursting a few speculative bubbles in the financial district (resulting in five bankrupt firms, two burnouts and one jumper, that would earn him quite a nice bonus this month). Landon was a trader, 32 years old stag fag, cute though unremarkable. What interested the demon was Landon’s recently found obsession with growing muscle. He fancied that getting more muscular would make him loveable. Or at least more fuckable. Over the last few months he had started working out, dieting, supplementing and he was wearing what meager gains he had achieved as a badge of honor. The demon immediately took an interest in him. Not that he would get much sin out of Landon but it would be fun. It had assumed a form specially designed for Landon. And it worked. Landon had his eyes glued to it from across the room. Eye fucking the demon, drinking in the sight, recording the images for later fantasies. It was stunning. In his late thirties, 6’4 tall, around 230lbs of muscle with just a tiny bit of bodyfat to make it look comfortable and powerful. The mass was sumptuously distributed. It wasn’t an athletic body, it was a pure porno body, sculpted for sex. The worn out jeans were skin tight, putting the emphasis on its powerful legs and huge round ass. The tight waist flared into a powerful torso with broad shoulders and almost disproportionately huge arms. The white t-shirt was hugging every inch of it and highlighting the massive pecs. Two fat nipples clearly visible pointing downwards, the dark wide aureola contrasting through the flimsy white fabric. A bull-thick neck stretching the collar supported a face that had Landon totally engrossed. It was clearly modeled to look like an Arabian man. The deep olive skintone, thick jet black hair with a few grey ones buzzed short on the side with a short fauxhawk on the top. Square features enhanced by his perfectly styled stubble, wide smiling mouth with a plump lower lips, strong nose and eyes like polished onyx adorned with dark lashes and crowned with extra thick perfectly shaped black brows. It was looking at Landon with a sly smile. Landon was comparatively small and unremarkable. 5’9, 185 lbs, mousy brown hair, dirty green eyes. Though he was definitely a handsome man he didn’t stand out in crowd. He also wasn’t used to be noticed, so when he realized the Man he had been staring a was looking back and smiling he panicked and looked down. He felt beads of sweat form on his forehead and his sweat levels go through the roof as he was flushed with embarrassment. When he finally lifted his head to look up, the Demon had crossed the room and was standing on the other side of the table. Landon was staring directly at the Demon’s obscenely bulging fly. Landon dried, as all the moisture his body could generate was currently in his briefs. He looked up, the generous pecs partly hid the magnificent face but a predatory smile could still be seen. He gracefully moved around the table and sat right next to Landon invading his personal space. Its gorgeous face going to his ears, its juicy pecs brushing against him, its heat radiating on his skin. “-Hello cutie I’m Damon” Its voice was deep, warm and husky. Landon hesitated for a moment, not sure he heard its name right. The first syllable sounded off. But his brain quickly shoved that thought aside. “-I’m Landon.” he said. Damon smiled, looking tenderly atLandon. He could taste the man's greed. An exotic greed, fresh, newly formed. An obsession for muscle and size. A compulsive need for more. More muscle, more food, more cock, more manliness, more sex, more size. A bottomless pit. A perpetual motion machine. Whatever little gains made calling for a bigger one. It wasn’t just the grueling workouts, the overeating, the race for calories… now that it was close, Damon smelt other things. Landon had recently botoxed his scrotum and gotten hyaluronic acid in his dick. He had skipped a couple months of saving for retirement to get penile enhancement. Landon’s greed was phenomenal. Damon had hit jackpot. It was easy for Damon to lure Landon to it’s den. A few flirty words, an ushered invitation and Landon was ready to follow the hunky demon anywhere. Just two streets away from the bar, Damon pulled out a key and opened the entrance of an apartment building. Had Landon not been starring at the glorious massive ass of Damon, he’d have noticed the key looked too old and didn’t match the modern keyhole. Or that the entrance they stepped through was too large to belong to the building he thought he had walked in. He might have even noticed that he had entered an alternate dimension. Damon was amazed at how easy that was. Lust Demons really had it easy. Be attractive enough and humans will throw themselves off cliffs without even giving it a second thought. Plus having a sexualized body was feeling nice. It usually assumed the unremarkable appearance of a average human male or female, not bothering with details like nipples or genitalia or body hair. The body it was wearing tonight was designed to be seen and desired. Though it was mostly a facade, the muscle mass made it feel dynamic and strong. The way it bounced and flexed was addictive. A big fat cock with a set of extra large balls was nestled in its briefs between its thick thighs. It was the first time he gave himself genitalia, and to be honest he’d have to do it more often. Especially having a dick. It felt ridiculously good, and it realized the bigger it made its dick the more satisfying it felt . It had to reel in and keep itself in check to avoid being too much of a freak. Damon’s apartment was gigantic (space is much more malleable in the underworld) it looked like a French Haussmannian interior (just look it up) everything was the same shade of clinical white. Like some 3d designer carefully sculpted the whole thing but forgot to put a texture on it. He led Landon to the living room dominated by a huge lush sofa on which Damon was sprawled. Its powerful legs opened to put its massive basket on display. He patted the spot next to him inviting Landon. Landon sat a respectful foot away from Damon, visibly ill at ease, stiff on the edge of the sofa. -”Aw for fuck sake” Damon growled rolling his eyes. He closed the distance between it and Landon grabbed the back of the man’s head and french kissed him. Landon was overwhelmed by the soft lips of Damon, its scruffy stubble and powerful tongue. His hand slowly found Damon’s body and he started caressing the big muscular demon. It was his first time with someone this size and it felt (ironically) like heaven to him. He loved it, he wanted to be like this himself so much. The experience was pleasant to Damon too but what was getting it off was the Greed inside Landon. It just needed to enter a pact with Landon and it would soon be rewarded by a tsunami of greed. Abandoning any subtlety, Damon got up. Its 13’’ boner was leaving a serious dickprint on its jeans. It took off its shirt and threw it away revealing his powerful torsos glorious pecs. Its mouthwatering pecs ever so slightly dragged down by their own obscene weight toward the perfectly carved abs. Landon was looking at him overcome with disbelief, joy, lust and envy. He couldn’t function anymore, he needed to be as muscular, no, more muscular than Damon. -”I know what you need” rasped Damon. “ I know you want to get bigger. You need to. That’s why you’re killing yourself in the gym. Why you got injections in your dick. Because you want to look like this!” it said, flexing. ”Or this!” he added grabbing his dick through its jeans. Landon was about to cry, his face burning, feeling humiliated, anger and jealousy rising inside him. Damon looked down on the human sitting in front of him and chuckled. -”Don’t get all worked up baby. I’m here to help.” Damon cooed, unfastening his fly. “Tell you what... You worship me and I’ll give you all the muscle you want, all the dick you want. You want to be a freak? Sure baby I’ll make you a freak. Just worship me.” It had its jeans around its ankles, a 13 inch wrist thick rock hard uncut cock jutting from a perfectly groom pelvis. Landon was still mistruful of the cocky hunk in front of him, but greed took over. He leant on grabbing the glorious penis, unsheathing it. -”Do we have a deal?” said the demon? -”Yeah...” Landon said before stuffing his face with as much dick as he could. Damon, growled and felt his knees buckle. He had underestimated Landon’s greed. They were just getting started and it was already exceeding what it had anticipated. Plus he was getting head for the first time and he fucking loved it. It could feel the energy flux going both way. Its demonic energy leaving it, fuelling Landon’s growth and Landon’s greed filling it making its power greater. Like a river flowing in two directions at the same time. He tried to focus back on Landon. Damn his clothes were stretched tight. He was already starting to look like a fitboy. It forcefully pried its dick from Landon, pushing back the man’s head with little ceremony. -”Undress.” it simply ordered. Landon complied, eager to get more from Damon. Landon was already looking like he had been hitting the gym for years. Faint abs showing, little pancake pecs emerging, the hint of a V shape. A decent 6’’ inches cut dick was painfully hard and leaking. This was going much faster than Damon planned. Damon shook its jeans and shoes off, it fell back on the couch, lifting its thick slightly hairy legs in the air and spreading them to expose its hole, magnified by the lovely shape of its muscular ass. -”How about we take it up a notch?” Damon said. Landon, positioned himself, caressing the powerful legs of Damon and rubbing his cockhead on the demon’s hole. It was unlike anything Landon had ever felt, clean, silky, warm and slick like it was already lubed. Landon kindly pushed himself inside Damon. It was unlike anything he had ever felt, the insides of the demon were deliciously smooth and warm, the muscle rings were applying the perfect amount of pressure on his dick. Damon was perfect, flawlessly designed for sex. The intimate connexion between the demon and the greedy human opened, unleashing a tidal wave. Landon’s greed making the demon more powerful than it would ever have imagined and Damon’s power growing Landon at a worrying pace. Landon’s body was starting to resemble a gymrat's. Unbelievable muscular definition,wide shoulders rounding up, bulging biceps, striated triceps, thick forearms, nice thick pecs bouncing up and down as he fucked the demon. Damon felt the strength of the plowing he was receiving augmented as Landon’s ass became more muscular and defined. The demon was delighted to feel Landon’s penis grow inside it, the stretching feeling was utterly amazing. It reminded Damon how it had wanted to give itself a freakishly big dick. It let its own penis fattened and lengthen beyond what was humanly possible. Landon looked in disbelief as the magnificent uncut dick reached the thickness of the demon thighs and a sufficient length for him to suck on it it while he fucked the demon. He obviously obliged giving the demon a blowjob while he pounded his ass. Landon adjusted his stance, his thighs were getting too thick and his balls too fat and hanging too low. His 10’’ dick wrecking the now distended demon hole, making obscene wet noises with the piston motion and the gallon of pre coating its insides. Landon was almost as big as a bodybuilder. His thick pecs casting a shadow on his rock hard abs. His shoulders striated and overblown with muscle, arms now too thick to bend entirely. He was constantly shifting and changing his stance to accommodate the mass that added to his frame, his bones were stretching to accommodate the onslaught of mass packing on his body. It was all too much for him, for both of them. Landon started pumping his load in the demon. Thrusting harder, harder and harder trying to pour his seed as deep as he could. Meanwhile Damon’s mind exploded as it’s power reached that of a Major Demon. As new powers and knowledge flooded its mind Landon semen flooded its inside. Its mind was wrapped in a warm lush blanket and as it experienced human male orgasmed for the first time it drifted into a deep much needed blissful sleep. On the other hand Landon who had been prone to sleep immediately after orgasm, resisted the hormonal tide quite well. Despite feeling week in the knees and hisdick softening, he was still mostly awake. He pulled out from the demon, the gross suction noise it made was accompanied by a ungodly amount of cum cascading from the demon distended but rapidly recovering hole. Had it been awake it would have regretted choosing a white sofa. Landon was still reeling from all the muscle and power he had filled with. He was monstrous 6’8 (2m7) and 328 lbs (149kg). He had 20’’ arms(51cm) and his glorious pecs got his chest to a glorious 55’’(1m40) while his waist remained barely thicker than his arms at a mind boggling 25’’ (65cm). He was in a haze, like he was severely drunk, and answering to his automatic habit of dressing up and leaving after hooking up. He grabbed his underwear,vaguely aware his 9’’ softy and lemon sized balls would never fit. Still he was surprised to feel them rip and disintegrate in his hands as he yanked them to pull them over his now gigantic quads. He discarded them and tried to pull on his jeans and T-shirt. The waist of the jeans resisted despite several threads popping, the seams of the quads and calves burst open as soon as he moved and his tee ripped on both sides, on the back and the sleeves were purely destroyed as he awkwardly put his clothes on. He stumbled toward the exit of the flat with just tatters on his back. A few minutes later the front door of the building spat him back into the real world. It was well past noon when Damon woke up. A reddish sunlight bathing the surreally white living room. Its 2ft morning wood dripping a steady trickle of warm pre on its chin, it shifted, stretching enjoying the feeling of its hard dick and its sore rectum. A satisfied smile on its lips Damon got to its feet, thinking it might keep this body for while(though he’d have to get his penis to a more manageable size). He rummaged through its discarded jeans to check its phone. It had received a shitload of messages. Damons smile grew wider as it went through countless messages congratulating him on becoming a Major Demon. In the middle of all those message was one from the Central Demonic Administration (CDeA not to be mistaken with CDia which is the Central Divine Administration). It requested Damon to register its familiar. As the pieces of the evening fell back in place its smile faded. He realized that Landon left its place leaving just a destroyed pair of briefs behind. It had its incubus on the loose. It was accountable for him. It was supposed to register him to CDeA and it was potentially responsible for a risk of exposure to humans. It was in deepshit trouble. -”hu..fuuuuuuck” Damon whined. To be continued
  14. Chapter Five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13181-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-five/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter Six A blast of phosphorescent preternatural power filled the entire building, and had an impact on every man inside. Jack couldn't believe it: Kortoth-Gnaah had already transformed Jack and other members of the gym, earlier in the night, and Jack hadn't expected any further change, but the powerblast now consumed him in the feeling of further growth, more hardness, more muscle. In the epicentre of the blast, Jack could see his war-god embracing the brave and impressive bouncer, the latter one growing into something amazing. The sound of men moaning and grunting in excitement was heard from the rooms downstairs, and when the dizzying experience faded, gigantic men in leather, chainmail and furs descended from the inner recesses of the club. Before his change into a warrior of Anghra-Lemur, Jack would probably have felt embarrassed in a surrounding like this, but since his transformation, nothing could make him embarrassed. Slowly and gradually, he became aware of, that something wasn't entirely right. Since his transformation by the war-god, he had felt his connection to his Master increase. While orders and commands were given telepathically in a very clear and comprehensible way, on other occasions he could vaguely sense the pleasure, the confidence and the worry of his Master, and the bond seemed to increase. Now, Jack could sense, that Kortoth-Gnaah was puzzled, even surprised and confused. As the overwhelming sensation of empowerment faded, Jack began to better notice details of his surroundings: All men in the club had changed into prehistorical fighters – all men, except the men in rubber and PVC. The, now huge, bouncer kneeled beside a short and slim man in his late 20s, whom Jack vaguely recognised from campus. The war-god spoke in disbelief: "What treachery is this? I gave the command, that all should become my warriors!" An almost human expression arose in his face, and a skilful observer could have discerned the visage of archaeological researcher Brock MacGurgan. Then a trace of divine knowledge shadowed the war-god's brow. "This fabric of the younger days... It is not under my domain... It is under the domains of the scarlet and purple rites of the archdemons of the outer realms. Remove it!" * * * Lucien felt devastated. This supernatural being had promised incomprehensible strength, and then everyone else had changed into monuments of masculinity. All – except himself. He was surrounded by brutally built men, standing around him, their naked or leather-clad legs broad apart. They towered above him – threateningly, he first thought, but could discern the gaze of genuine concern in their eyes. The being, that once had been Chad, kneeled at his side, with a worried and loving expression. Chad's shoulders reminded Lucien of volley balls. Lucien put his hand on Chad's left pec, now the size of a basket ball, and shivered. Lucien could see other slim and average men dressed like himself ascend the staircase, with disappointed expressions. The war-god said something, but Lucien didn't listen. Chad rose again. Disappointment. Mixed with wonder and lust at the sight of Chad. And comfort. Chad's protective presence so close. Lucien embraced Chad's powerful naked quads, and kissed them – something powerful throbbing inside Chad's leather jockstrap. Suddenly, he saw some of the tall men in leather and chainmail rip the rubber apart from the chests and legs of the other rubber-lads. Chad leaned forward. Lucien could feel Chad's big and strong hands clench Lucien's clothes, and then Lucien was naked, standing there freezing. Vulnerable. Exposed. Devastated. Chad arose, and said something: "Master. Allow me to grow with my mate here, as you allowed your men from that building, over there, grow with me." The war-god smiled and nodded, and reached out his arm, which began to glow in a familiar greenish phosphorescent way. "Receive the powers of Anghra-lemur!" His mind was on fire: Not a burning fire, but a pleasantly warm fire, which empowered him. YES! Empowered him! He could feel Chad standing behind him, Chad's leather-clad crotch throbbing against his naked lumbar, Chad's big hands on his growing pecs. Visions of aeons past flickered before his eyes, and the bravery of forgotten ages was poured into him. There was nothing he could do to stop it now, but he didn't want it to stop. He felt bigger now. And stronger. A pleasant hardness spreading. His head held high in pride, his legs in a confident stance. Visions of sword-fights. Visions of battling monsters without hesitation. He felt taller. Dimly, he could sense how his brothers grew with him, and that Chad was growing with him, too. Yes! Grow with me, Chad! So big! Couldn't have dreamed... Feel so hard... And powerful! Yes, Chad, look at me! Look at what I'm becoming! Like you! Look at me, war-god of Anghra-Lemur! Look at your masterpiece! Shoulders and traps! Fuck! Brawn! More brawn! Eager for all the hero-brawn! Yes! Receiving so much muscle and power… BECOMING muscle and power! When the sensations of growth faded, Lucien had become on of the men of Anghra-Lemur. * * * The war-god of Anghra-Lemur walked the streets of the modern university city, and his men followed him – loyal, obedient, powerful, devoted. The Being had granted them this masculine power, and they had to obey his commands. They loved to serve. Kortoth-Gnaah pointed at buildings, and their outlines blurred. In the place of some high rises, low mud huts and neolithic long-houses from ordinary human history emerged, but, when he pointed at other tall buildings, spires and domes formed, materialising from unthinkable angles, from the space between the spaces, from the dreams of the older gods and from the dreams of men. Spires of alabaster which wasn’t alabaster. Domes of jade and gold. Impossible and unimaginable forms and ornaments from dreamtimes outside history. The dreams of the older gods floated through the minds of the new men of Anghra-Lemur, and the dreams of the older gods floated through the mind of Kortoth-Gnaah, of which Brock MacGurgan was now only an assimilated part. Brock dreamed, and he was awake. He observed The Being, that was himself and yet something else, transform other men into impossible monuments of masculinity, individual flesh-and-bone specimens of ancient myths, old sagas and modern entertainment of his childhood and youth: Warriors, protectors, defenders, heroes, barbarians… It felt like a dream, and yet it wasn’t. He pointed at buildings: It wasn’t just past and present that fused into something else. It was the worlds of the gods, that were leaking into his former everyday world, and gradually becoming reality, a reality where tales of heroic masculinity and dark male fantasy were true. He felt like he could lift buildings, and he probably could. He felt like he could withstand a nuclear explosion, and he probably could. He could sense his men’s loyalty to him, and it felt like an addiction. He felt cosmic power float in his veins. Something was missing… Something vital… He couldn’t think straightforward. Ah, yes. The women. The women of Anghra-Lemur. His subjects needed to procreate, if Anghra-Lemur would thrive in this new, moden time. The warrior-women of Anghra-Lemur would rise again, but he lacked the power. Just as that modern, unknown fabric was under the control of the archdemons of the outer realms, the power to transform women of the newer age into women of Anghra-Lemur was under the control of someone else: The Sea Goddess. He had to reach out to the Sea Goddess. He and his men roamed the streets, and their mere presence caused modern women to reach orgasm. They returned to the campus, and Kortoth-Gnaah observed the tower where he had found this willing embodiment. Perhaps the old man, that … Schnackenburg… would know how to contact the Sea Goddess? The steel-and-glass doors were closed and locked, and several police cars were parked outside the Archaeology Department. It was of no concern. Kortoth-Gnaah nodded in the direction of the entrance, and two loyal men – formerly known as Chad and Lucien – crushed it with their clubs. The god and his housecarls entered. Chapter Seven is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13510-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-seven/
  15. Thought it was a play

    This muscle-growth story is dedicated in memory of James Joyce, Jack Kirby and Robert Mapplethorpe – geniuses in three very separate fields. I guess, that none of them would have appreciated this dedication, with the possible exception of the last one. I do not claim any level of originality here. I have treated the theme otherwhere in the past, but it was fun to write it. Thought it was a play Yes, it sounded good back at the club, but I didn't think you were serious. I love this type of role-play, and you are really, really my type, Sir, but now you are taking it too far. No, I've forgotten the safe word. Too bad? What do you mean with 'too bad'? If I think you are hot? Are you kidding? It isn't you, I am complaining about, it is what you are doing to me. This is beyond my limit, Sir. When I met you back at the club, I thought you were just into the same role-play as I am... You know the stuff: Pretending to grow into some sort of mind-controlled super-soldier, you know, like Captain America, but brainwashed. Or like Halo. Or Universal Soldier. As I told you: I like Halo. And you are so buff and so cut, hell, I couldn't believe my eyes and ears when you sat down, payed my Guinness and sat there, all muscle and camo and attitude and boot polish and jarhead cut, looking like some sort of badass superhero played by John Cena or an 80s action star, or someone, and I wondered why you sat down at my table, when there were all these other lads at the place: Some younger than me, some considerably older guys more ox-like daddyish than me, and lots of them much more built than me, I mean: With so many hot lads and dads to chose from, I'm really honoured, I'm really flattered, you know: I'm just average, so why chat up me of all guys, where I sat alone, wearing a pair of city-camo trousers, a black polo, blue braces, short – but not buzzcut – hair and shiny, glossy DM boots? Felt hot of course, but I know my limits, and you are usually beyond my league – look at those biceps of yours and that narrow waist with those broad shoulders, you can't be unaware of how you look, and what you do to men around you, can you? There's even sites for it online, Sir: Blokes like you and me writing stories about muscle growth, or cheering each other's real-life gains (modest in my case, sensational in your's), or using chats for RPs about impossible, larger-than-life muscle growth, so I supposed you must be one of them... Us... ...when you were drunk and began to talk about Project Antaeus, and it felt so hot. Fuck, Sir! You are so perfect in that Alpha jacket, showing your tight tank top over that bronzed chest... And the dog tags makes it even better – they look almost real... I love when you watch me with that arrogant gaze, Sir! I'm willing to obey you, but I feel uncomfortable with hoses stuck into my bottom, needles in my arm and unknown chemicals dripping into my IV – I've never used gear, Sir, even if I suspect that you know everything about it, by the look of you, but I was afraid of the side effects you hear so much about, you know, so, instead of being hot, it is slightly scary, since you behave like Project Antaeus was real, and it can't be, otherwise it would have leaked by now, and science isn't now in our age at the level that it could be true – in one hundred years perhaps, but not now, today – so you act like a lunatic, and I don't date lunatics – even if it is, in a sort of kinky way, slightly hot to be tied to this high-tech chair. I liked when you unbuttoned my trousers, and commanded me to step out of them – my jockstrap was perfect for your chair, and I like the smooth leather seat against my skin, and it feel good to let my boots remain on. What are you doing, Sir? Can't stop you with these cuffs around my wrists. My hair! The buzzing, tickling feeling, when you force me to endure a buzzcut. Changing me. Changing me into another man, a more disciplined look. Yes, Sir! I've said it earlier: I do think that you are hot – you don't have to ask again: You are an icon of masculinity, a monument of testosterone-oozing, alpha-assertive, exaggerated military masculinity, and I don't understand what you mean, when you tell me, that Project Antaeus was aborted before it reached the intended results. Just look at you! Yes! (Let us play!) Project Antaeus transformed you into the man you are today, and yes, look what you have become: It must have reached the intended results. It must. You are a super-soldier, Sir! Not enough? With all respect, Sir, but you are amazing, Sir! I would follow you blindly into battle, and I would eagerly share your bunk, Sir! And I would feel honoured to undergo the treatment you underwent in Project Antaeus... Illegally re-activated? What do you mean? Find out its real potential? More than you received? Much more? But, Sir! Even your level of stamina and strength would be a great achievement... (Yes, you are doing it so good, Sir! It feels so realistic. Keep going...) No, Sir. I do not know anything about DARPA. No, Sir, I don't understand the legal consequences of royal prerogative on the Commonwealth. Why would US, Canada, UK and the overseas territories cooperate in...? What do you mean, experiment on human beings? But that must be illegal? Not on this island? So this base is located here, because it is permitted to... Oh fuck, yes, Sir! I don't know what you are feeding into my veins, but it feel so good. A recruit? But I'm just a guy you picked up in a club, it can't... (Wow. So real.) Sir! Look at these shoulders and traps of mine. I feel so pumped. Pumped without any workout. So weird. So real. So good. Sir, I'm your recruit, and I declare myself willing to undergo Project Antaeus at full effect. Yes, Sir! (This is fun – you act so well) No, Sir! It doesn't matter to me, that Project Antaeus was re-activated illegally, I want to undergo the treatment, Sir! I give myself, body and mind, to this project, Sir! Yes, I am under your command, Sir, and I am willing to accept every additional treatment you deem valuable and efficient for the intended purpose. Yes, I am a willing test-subject and an obedient recruit. Yes, Sir! Put the earplugs in my ears, to induce brainwave programming, and electrodes to my temples. Since my hands and feet are cuffed to the examination chair, I am unable to stop you. I have to accept whatever treatment your whim have me undergo, but I am not unwilling, Sir! I'm willing to... Fuck! So good! So real (Sorry, Sir, didn't intend to break the play) Feel so... What are you doing to me, Sir? Feels like I'm actually growing? The re-building has begun? Yes, I understand, Sir: The shape of living beings can be scanned, and the scanned shapes projected onto other living beings. Scanned hundreds of bodybuilders? And hundreds of marines? Fused the scans into one unified and optimised male shape to project onto test subjects? Yes! Do it to me, Sir! I'm willing! I'm your recruit! Your willing test-subject! Yes, even further! Yes! Full potential! Intended results. (Fuck it feels so real) SIR! No! It's real! You can't do this to me! I have rights! What's in that IV? Inside me? Spreading inside me now? You have to let me go, before... No! Fuck! The scanned shapes... Projecting... Can't believe... Sir! Sir, I'm becoming... Sir, can't believe... The brainwaves... The formula inside... The projected shape... NO! SIR! YES! Yes! Like you! Becoming like you! Increasing T! And the shape! I can feel it, Sir! I can feel the shape around me... Yes. Fusing with my shape. It's MY shape. Yes. Warm. And buzzing of power. And full of power. And brimming of power. And overflowing of power... and strength... Fuck. Accumulating like a fucking battery. The shape. MY shape. Give it to me: My shape. The shape of this BEAST. Like you, Sir. Bigger than you, Sir. Can't believe it, Sir. Bigger. Look at me! Look at this! Look at this beast, you are creating, Sir! YOUR beast, Sir! You are creating a Beast Marine! Fuck, yeah, there goes my jockstrap! Look at this naked Beast Marine in boots. Fuck, yeah, there goes the cuffs. NOTHING can hold this BEAST MARINE tied to anything. Watch my strength, Sir! Watch my muscular power! Watch these guns and these quads and these – oh fuck yes, these abs – and I understand why you are horny now, Sir. I would have been horny, too, Sir, if I stood in the presence of someone like me: Now it is I who am an icon of masculinity, a monument of testosterone-oozing, alpha-assertive, exaggerated military masculinity! Yes, I am that! IV finished? Rid myself of that. So. Feels better now. Can flex now. Look at these guns, Sir! And these pecs! Much bigger than you, now. This you mean with 'intended results'? This confident studboi Beast Marine being more alpha than you are, Sir? I like that look in your eyes, Sir! What are you doing, Sir? Not possible! Increasing? YES! INCREASING! Fuck, Sir! Can't believe it! So good! More! YES! INCREASE! CAN'T BELIEVE IT IS POSSIBLE TO INCREASE MORE! Sir! So – uh uh uh uh – tall now, and my mass! My... MASS! Yes! Take that jacket off, Sir! And step out of those trousers... Join me, Sir! Join me! Yes! Into the radiation, the projection of the new, improved, enhanced big Shape. My Shape. Your Shape soon. The full impact of the radiation now, Sir. Nothing to stop it. Nothing to hinder it. We – the Prototypes of new improved BEAST MARINES. YES! Grow with me! Intended results... Oh, fuck, so much... Full potential... So much now, and still increasing... Yes, Sir, increase it more! I need the Power! And I want to see you join me! Become like me! Yes, your size, your gains now, Sir! All this brawn. My brawn, your brawn, bruiser brawn, insane levels of Power. BEAST MARINE Power! Still increasing! Still... oh fuck... increasing. So much. YES! 660 lbs and increasing! Increasing! Your 660 lbs BEAST MARINE recruit ready to obey your orders, Sir! Grow into mine fucking levels, Sir! Full potential... Full potential... The raw primal power of brutal strength. I'm your gargantuan giant, Sir! I'm your brutal bruiser behemoth! Engorged muscles! Can't believe power is still increasing! Yes, still increasing! Grow with me, Sir! Attain GIGANTIC BEAST POWER! Intended results... Full potential... Full potential... Approaching full potential... Approaching full potential... Yes! BEAST potential... This Prototype... The Power! The Brawn! Grow for you, Sir! FULL... FULL.. FULL... FULL... FULL... FULL... (Oh fuck, yeah!) FULL... (The Power... So much!) FULL... FULL... FULL... POTENTIAL!
  16. Unit 246: Chapter Four

    Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13112-unit-246/ Chapter Three is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13142-unit-246-chapter-three/ Unit 246 Chapter Four Obediently, and without hesitation, Unit 246 fastened Sergeant Mulligan's still bootclad feet in the power sockets. Sergeant Mulligan could feel the army boots on his feet, and the rubber insulation of the sockets clinging to his calves. The dim light inside the chamber was reflected in the chromed exterior of the sockets, and Mulligan's camo trousers still covered his lower body. His upper body was naked, sweat glistening, since Mulligan perspired, under the influence of anticipation and excitement. Unit 388 endured his own Procedure in silence, since Emotion Access was deactivated, and Unit 388 was still growing more and more into an icon of impossible and intimidating masculinity. Unit 246 continued to fasten Sergeant Mulligan's hands in the two power sockets wide overhead, forcing Mulligan to form an X. It was now impossible for Sergeant Mulligan to leave the contraption, and he was forced to keep the slightly uncomfortable assumed X-position. Unit 246 loomed over him, a monument of protective muscular strength ready to explode into action. "Connect me to mind-program." When Unit 246 applied the electrodes to his shaved temples, Sergeant Mulligan shivered, and he could sense the low-intense murmur of the preparatory mind-programming running in his brain. "It is good, Unit 246. Now proceed to recline in the usual chair for updates, connect yourself to mind-program, and await update." Unit 246 obeyed his order. It felt like a lump in his throat, and Sergeant Mulligan swallowed. A hint of fear lightly brushed his conscious mind, and then faded away. A delightful trepidation awoke in his guts, and expanded into his chest. Then he gave the order: "Medical Artificial Intelligence 5, activate and run update on Unit 246. Activate power socket B." The metallic voice answered, devoid of any personality: "Activating power socket B." His body felt like it was humming, and he became pleasantly warm. "Activate the nanites inside the test subject!" "Sergeant Mulligan. Nanites activating. In test subject. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. Let me remind you. Sergeant Mulligan. That enhancement formula is. In prototype stage. Caution is adviced." "Caution acknowledged, but overrided in socket B and update station. Proceed." "Overriding Prototype Caution Protocol in socket B and update station. Proceeding. Safety Protocol activated. Unable to proceed with. Safety Protocol activated." "Deactivate Safety Protocol in socket B and update station." "Safety Protocol. Deactivated. In socket B and update station. By. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Proceed." "Proceeding. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 now identified. And activated. In test-subject, power sockets B. And at update station. Mind-program running. Concomitantly to. DNA-alteration. And. Nano-facilitated re-building. Hypertrophic power activated. Current now. Twenty millibanners. And increasing." Now, Sergeant Mulligan understood, why some test subjects used to express fear and nausea in the beginning of The Procedure. A temporary feeling of alienation to his own body spread, but, unlike usual test subjects, Sergeant Mulligan knew what to expect, and his eager thirst for strength quickly subdued the fear. He had looked forward to this. Soon, the strength of the most proficient armed unit of the entire galaxy would circulate in his veins. Soon, his average physical frame would turn into an unstoppable steel-hard titan. Soon, he would become like his subordinates, who for so long had been his physical superiors. He trembled again, and felt how his body was trapped in the contraption, unable to escape if anything, against all probability, would go wrong. Warm. Felt warm now. Comfortably warm. And relaxed. He swallowed again. His muscles began to ache in a non-painful, even pleasant way. It was really happening! With Unit 388 growing and transforming at socket A right before him, and Unit 246 growing and transforming at the update station to his right. Growing together with his subordinates. Growing with the lads. Growing with the hulk marines – where-ever did the civilians pick that nickname up? Growing together with his brothers in arms. Becoming. Uh! Uhnnnn! Becoming. Oh, fuck, yes! Becoming more than human! "Nanites fully integrated. And working according preferred prototype enhancement formula. DNA alteration incomplete, but running. Testosterone levels rising. Hypertrophic power current. One hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." "M.A.I.5! Increase and intensify!" "Increasing. Intensifying." Oh, fuck, yes! It was happening! It was happening, now! His old daydream... becoming true... joining his men! So unbelievably good! He took pride in acting calmly and making well-considered decisions even in extreme situations, but he had never been able to compete with the disimpassioned resolve of the Enhanced Special Marine Servicemen under his command, and he craved that level of serenity and will-force. He could already feel the impact of the mind-control, and he took the feeling in. Drank of it eagerly. Cherished it. Embraced it. But there was something he missed? Under these circumstances, he wouldn't always be able to give Medical Artificial Intelligence 5 the necessary orders to increase and intensify the process, when needed. Better let the Artificial Intelligence handle that. "M.A.I.5! Continue to increase and intensify all parameters and levels continuously, until I give you an express order to terminate this. The order apply to all sockets and update stations." "Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6. Has given. Permitted order to. Increase and. Intensify. All sockets and update stations. Continuously. Will not terminate, until given permitted order by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Good." "Hypertrophic power current. Twelve hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." He could hear the breathing of Unit 388 and Unit 246 increase, when The Procedure intensified, and he could watch Unit 388 grow to incomprehensible levels of muscular strength. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." He could feel himself becoming taller, and he could feel his army boots disintegrating inside the power sockets. His quads and hamstrings forced themselves out from his camo trousers, ripping them apart. Tatters of camo-patterned fabric laid scattered around his station. With these legs, he could lift mountains. Yes! He was becoming a super-soldier! Yes! Change me! Brutally force me to become more! Make me a hulk-marine for the Empire! Heroic proportions! Monstrous proportions! His abs turned into a set of pétanque-boules hard as steel. It felt unbelievable. His pecs grow into godlike proportions. His shoulders broadened. His traps... Oh God! His traps! The power was so overwhelming now, and the mind-program was like a wave drowning his individual mid, tearing his soul apart in a all-consuming feeling of rage, lust and ultra-masculinity. The individual unit roared in bliss, power and ecstacy. The individual unit grew... "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Two thousand seven hundred millibanner. And increasing." The individual unit grew and it felt how it increased its capacities further. Unit 389 floated in a sea of stimulating power, and it could feel its strength increase. More. More. Without end. It liked how its strength increased more, more and without end, but it noticed, that Emotion Access was enabled, and the intensity of The Procedure could be difficult to handle at these levels. With Emotion Access enabled, it was hard to concentrate enough to call the attention of any superior officer. Hard. To concentrate. So good. So hard! His capacity! Sky rocketing! His brothers. In arms. Growing too. Big. Brothers. Together. Mighty. Tough. Brawny. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Three thousand three hundred millibanner. And increasing." Unit 389 was dimly aware of the warm, hard, growing presence of his brothers. Growing. But it was not aware of anything else in its surroundings. Empowerment. It was stronger now. Stronger than any man in the Galaxy. Except his two brothers. Unit 246. And Unit 388. Here. Present. Undergoing extreme hypertrophy and hyperplasia together. Undergoing DNA alteration together. Joining his brothers in size and strength. Together. Bigger. Could crush mountains. Couldn't remember any time in the past, when it could not crush mountains. It had no past. Unit 389 felt how it was being born in this very minute. Born to inherit Power, Brawn and Might. With his brothers. To fight in combat with his brothers. Bravely. To defend. To protect. And to be an Enhanced Special Marine Serviceman. Hulk-marine. The civilians said. Yeah! Look at these hulk-marines! Look at this hulk-marine! Seven foot, two inches. And growing. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Four thousand one hundred millibanner. And increasing." It wanted to crush asteroids. It was a steel monument. A steel monument dedicated to ultra-masculinity. And strength. And willingness to put oneself in danger's way. To protect. To defend. No, a monument of chromium! A monument of titanium! A monument of tungsten! It felt like its bodily presence expanded in all directions, all its muscles engorged to an insane level – feeling like planet-sized muscles – veins spreading all over him. It wasn't sure if it roared. It wasn't sure about anything outside the intense experience of re-programming its mind and re-programming its physique. Reprogramming. In order to defend and protect. The hypertrophic power streaming into its defenceless and unprotected body was beginning to feel hard to bear. Too much. Perhaps better terminate The Procedure. "M.A.I.5! Terminate Procedure at all stations!" "Negative. Test subject identified as Unit 389. Will not terminate, until given permitted order by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." Unit 389 felt slightly confused. Something wasn't aright, but his confusion was drowned in the feeling of further empowerment. It was almost too much. Almost. But it also felt pleasurable beyond description. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Eight thousand six hundred millibanner. And increasing. All test subjects now reaching. Height eight feet. And increasing." His brothers began to roar and moan now, despite that their Emotion Access was disabled. He roared, too. And moaned. Sinking deeply into the rapture of growth. Of becoming. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Ten thousand one hundred millibanner. And increasing." An alarm went off somewhere, but it didn't matter. Something broke. He didn't know what. It didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was, that the Artificial Intelligence continued to increase and intensify all parameters and levels continuously. He wanted it. He craved it. He eagerly embraced the full effect. "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying. Hypertrophic Power. Twelve thousand three hundred millibanner. And increasing." He didn't know for how long time The Procedure continued. Unit 389 was unable to terminate it, but it didn't matter. There was no such thing as too much. There was only the rapture of muscular empowerment without limits. Without any limits at all. Without any limits of brawn. Without any limits... Unit 389 increased his capacity. For the Empire. And the Emperor. And his brothers in arms. Stronger. Becoming a power-being. Becoming a nuclear explosion. Becoming indomitable. Becoming invincible. Becoming... * * * Chapter Five is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13150-unit-246-chapter-five/
  17. Unit 246: Chapter Three

    Chapter One is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13112-unit-246/ Chapter Two is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13129-unit-246-chapter-two/ Unit 246 Chapter Three Sergeant Mulligan trembled in anticipation: He wanted to know. He wanted to know how far the lads under his command could grow. He wanted to know what the Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 would do to a slim and narrow-shouldered civilian, and Unit 246 had brought a test subject for him. To hell with precautions! Why spend valuable time on evaluation of formulas 7.3 and 8.0 when the 8.1 already existed in a prototype state? He wanted to know. The civilian – a protester even – had been given a meal, which he seemed to appreciate. What did the central galactic administration and the multi-corporations think of, when they increased fees and prices on food, and why on earth had they re-routed some of the shipping routes? Even if those mining families had no right to protest in the violent manner they did – we ought to trust the Emperor – they were right on one point: All human beings need food. Well, now the civilian had been given a meal and a nutrition-injection, and Unit 246 had brought him to Lab 5 on Sergeant Mulligans order. Unit 246 had stripped the frightened test subject naked, and fastened the feet and hands of the test subject in the four power sockets. Unlike the updates, managed while the individual unit reclined in a sort of chair, the initial enhancement Procedure demanded another treatment. The chrome-shining power sockets swallowed the test subject's hands and feet entirely, and he stood with his skinny legs broad apart inside the sockets, shaping an X with his arms. Unit 246 was now attaching a hose to the test subject's genitals. The test subject became pale. He looked frightened, and didn't dare to say anything to Sergeant Mulligan or Unit 246. Mulligan was curious: Some of the early recruits had a background in sports, or had good records from earlier military service. The second generation consisted at a ratio of 20% of sons of former Enhanced Special Marine Servicemen, with no former background in the Forces until The Procedure. This test subject was uncharacteristically thin, but the hopes for the 8.1 update aimed at something more extreme than hitherto. Something amazing could be about to happen, opening a wider range of future recruits, unless some unforeseen side effect would kick in. Like the 5.4 upgrade... A short moment of hesitation went by, when Sergeant Mulligan remembered the screams of the deformed monstrosities, that were the result of the discontinued 5.4 upgrade. The scientists must have transcended such obstacles since quite a long time, by now. The scientists still warned against using any formula newer than the 7.2 upgrade, but why take so long time with the prototype formulas? The 7.3 prototype worked well on Unit 246, a few days ago, didn't it? Mulligan wanted to build prototype soldiers. Some day... Some day he wanted to become one of them. He had led these larger-than-life marines in combat so many times, marvelled at their stamina, performance... Self-control... Muscles... Their superior in the command chain, but their inferior when it came to actual capacity. Some day, he wanted to join them. The test subject had been overcome with fright, but now his fear released a string of words: "Don't you see, Bill? It's me! Max! Please, release me from this machine! Don't torture me! I don't know anything about the leaders of the protest. I just joined, because I needed food! I don't know anything! There's no use for torturing me! It's me, Bill! Remember?" "Unit 246, administer the DNA-alering injection to the test subject." "Yes, Sir!" It was done. A muffled cry from the test subject. "Unit 246, administer Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 to the test subject." "Yes, Sir!" "What was that? Truth serum? But I do not know anything you want to know! Bill?" Unit 246 looked straightforward in a dispassionate and slightly machine-like way. "Unit 246, connect the test subject to mind-program." "Yes, Sir!" The eyes of the test-subject widened. "Leave the chamber, Unit 246!" "Yes, Sir!" Unit 246 towered at the side of Sergeant Mulligan, and watched the chamber. "M.A.I.5! Heat the chamber up!" The Medical Artificial Intelligence answered with its usual metallic voice: "Sergeant Mulligan. Chamber is. Heating up." A familiar humming sound began and increased in volume. "M.A.I.5! Activate the nanites inside the test subject!" "Sergeant Mulligan. Nanites activating. In test subject. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. Let me remind you. Sergeant Mulligan. That enhancement formula is. In prototype stage. Caution is adviced." "Caution acknowledged, but overrided. Proceed." "Overriding Prototype Caution Protocol. Proceeding. Safety Protocol activated. Unable to proceed with. Safety Protocol activated." "Deactivate Safety Protocol." "Safety Protocol. Deactivated by. Sergeant Mulligan. Security clearance. L6." "Proceed." "Proceeding. Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 now identified. And activated. In test-subject, power sockets A. Mind-program running. Concomitantly to. DNA-alteration. And. Nano-facilitated re-building. Hypertrophic power activated. Current now. Twenty millibanners. And increasing." "What's happening to me? What's this? It's..." The faint outlines of the test-subject's muscles were becoming visible. "No! What are you doing? What's happening to my body? Like it's taken over by something not me... Feel sick... Must puke... Sickening feeling... So alien... What the fuck is happening to me?" The metallic voice of M.A.I.5 interrupted: "Nanites fully integrated. And working according preferred prototype enhancement formula. DNA alteration incomplete, but running. Testosterone levels rising." "BILL! You must release me! Something sick is happening! Something..." Unit 246 observed the chamber, without showing any reaction. Sergeant Mulligan observed, fascinated by what he saw. At this early level, it looked fairly similar to what he had observed innumerable times, but the novel aspect of this experiment was, that a typical ectomorph was able to achieve the same level as the more typical mesomorphs used in the past. "Hypertrophic power current. One hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." The test subject's fear seemed to melt away, but something else was rising. "I said: Release me! You bloody wankers out there, even you, Bill! I trusted you! Now you let me out or I shall... I shall... Yes! O fuck, yes! Bigger now! I will fucking give you a thrashing, with this new strength, if you don't let me out, and let... Fuck! So good! Couldn't have dreamed of..." "Hypertrophic power current. Five hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying. Testosterone increasing. DNA-alteration progress 25%. Nanite activity at 35%. And increasing." "Wait? What are you doing? No! You can't... Can't make me into a hulk-marine! I don't want to become one of them! I'll find you a cure, Bill. I promise! Let me out, so that this... Oh, fuck! So good! So much! You can't change me... Look at these guns! Can't move them now, but anyhow... YES! Look at this bruiser... this brick shithouse... I'll show you when I break free... Let you see some aggro! I'll marmalise you! The power streaming through me... so bloody UNBELIEVABLE!" "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." "YES! Look at me! The new Uni... No! No, you can't change me! I'm Max, Bill! Remember Max? So big now... Like you, Bill... Becoming like you... So good! So much! So big! So hard! Like a good mari- ... NO! I'm me, I'm not... So fucking massive. I could soon crush this machine if I wanted, but I don't WANT to crush it, since it is so GOOD when it cram me more and more full with this muscle building POWER... No one will mess with me. I'm a loyal... NO! I'M MYSELF! Program me according to your wish, Sarge... NO! So big! Like a good marine! Noooooo!" "All parameters and levels increasing and intensifying." Unit 246 didn't show any reaction to the test subjects' ramblings, but Sergeant Mulligan studied the process with deep interest. It was the best enhancement formula he had witnessed. The test subject was now of about the same size as Unit 246, and The Procedure wasn't even half-way. Enormous pecs protruded from the wide chest, and a monstrous – yet functional – trapezius covered his back, thick lats hanging on each sides. Veins covered large areas of the test subject's body. Instruments allowed them to hear the test subject's heart beat. "Hypertrophic power current. Twelve hundred millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying." "I'M MYSEEEEEEELF! Sir! Unit 388 reporting for duty! Please enhance the abilities and capacities of this individual unit, Sir! This individual unit exist for the purpose of enhancing his capacity and use his capacity to the utmost, for the sake of the Galactic Empire. Let me inform you, Sir, that Emotion Access is still activated, and that... Uh! Uhnn! Let me... UH! ...That The Procedure is quite intense. Sir! So good! More, Sir! Give me more!" "Hypertrophic power current. Two thousand millibanners. And increasing. Mind-program. Intensifying. DNA-alteration progress 97%. Nanite activity at 95%. Testosterone level. Rising." Sergeant Mulligan would soon deactivate Emotion Access, but he wanted to observe the next minute or two. The test subject was now bigger than any former or existing Enhanced Special Marine Serviceman. "Yes, Sir! Bulging all over! Every muscle engorged WITH POWER! Could crush anything! For the Emperor and the Empire! This is my rifle, this is my gun, this is for pleasure and this is for fun! Joining my brothers in arms! Defend! Protect! Yes! Increasing!" "Hypertrophic power current. Two thousand five hundred millibanners. And increasing." "Unit 388, deactivate Emotion Access." "Sir! Yes, Sir! Emotion Access deactivated. Proficiency levels increasing, Sir!" "M.A.I.5! Procure Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. for two further test subjects!" A white cylinder moved away from the antiseptic wall, and the metallic voice returned: "Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1. for two further test subjects procured." "Pick it up, Unit 246." "Yes, sir." He picked them up. Sergeant Mulligan trembled. He was going to show them. He was going to show his superiors the advisability and usefulness of using Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1, despite all the talk about safety precautions over at Research and Development. "Unit 246, administer the DNA-alering injection to me." "Yes, Sir!" "Unit 246, administer Prototype Enhancement formula 8.1 to me and yourself." "Yes, Sir!" "Unit 246, now enter the chamber, together with me. "Yes, Sir!" Sergeant Mulligan was going to show them. He was going to show them the power of the prototype formula. He was going to show them his power. He was going to become the second prototype. * * * Chapter Four is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13146-unit-246-chapter-four/
  18. Chapter one is found here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13085-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake/ Professor Schnackenburg's mistake: Chapter Two Cody was the biggest bro at campus, and he knew it. He was tired of the weakling sissies at the college gym, who wanted to 'get some muscle tone' but 'not become too big'. Cody very much disagreed: There was no 'too much'. There was no 'big enough'. Never too much! Never big enough! He had joined The Steel Factory gym outside campus, since it had got the heaviest free weights in town. As he had spread the reputation of The Steel Factory, some of the other students had also began to work out there: Jess, Jill, Jack. And Magnussen. And Tim. He pushed the heavy barbell in a focused and disciplined bench press, and he could feel his blood run to his chest, giving him a bloody awesome pump. Some strange greenish phosphorescent light shone in from the windows, and seemed to lit up the night outside the windows. And thunderclaps. Was it thunder? or northern lights? Or something. He returned to his workout schedule. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. It was rather close to some of the buildings belonging to Arts and Humanities: The archeology students, the literature students, the historians... The only drawback with the location of The Steel Factory was, that the gay street began around the corner, and one gay bar faced the entrance to The Steel Factory. Cody liked to draw attention, but he didn't like to draw attention of gays. He preferred to draw the attention of female students like Jess and Jill. Jess. He became angry again. Jess. She had been his girlfriend for six months. He remembered the scent of her blonde hair, and her enthusiastic screams when he pounded her. Shit. He got a boner inside his training shorts. Well, if anyone commented, they knew he would hit them. He didn't expect anyone to comment. He felt insulted, when he saw Magnussen – the reasonably brawny Danish exchange student – work out with Jess across the room, over at the rowing machines. One day, he would tell Magnussen his mind. One day, he would give Magnussen a real thrashing, and prove who's the Alpha on campus. Jill, the brunette studying pharmacology, was sexy in a shy way, and when she was drunk at a party, she had confessed, that she was turned on by muscle, and she had worshipped him behind a sofa. He wanted to go further with Jill. Or conquer Jess and leave Magnussen in a pathetic little heap of shit, but he had to admit, that Magnussen had a good constitution when he arrived in the beginning of the academic year, and he had to admit, that Magnussen had got some real gains, as the term had went on. Or, he fantasised, he could persuade Jess and Jill into a threesome with him, and leave Magnussen destroyed. Yeah, like a real Alpha. Four boobs on him. Four hands exploring his quads and pecs. Two pussies eager for his Alpha cock. It sounded like a road accident outside the gym. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack, on the other side, was a true friend. A real bro. Someone to rely on and trust. Fucking awesome stud, even if he hadn't got the same gains as Cody and Magnussen. If he and Jack had been gay, Cody had been willing to give head to Jack, but since they both now were straight as an arrow, that would never happen. Jill had called Jack and Cody 'a bromance' a couple of times, what that was supposed to mean. Everyone seemed to like Jack. Cody watched Jack help Tim over at the old fashioned pec-dec machine. Tiny Tim. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Cody couldn't understand why Jack had to drag that little runt to the gym. Tim's presence just delayed their training schedule. Even if he was beginning to get the knack of how the machines worked, Tim hadn't used the free weights much, and he didn't achieve any gains to speak of. Subcutaneous fat was not the problem: Tiny Tim's abs were already visible when Jack brought him to the gym the first time, but it seemed like the shy kid couldn't pack on any brawn. Fuck! The little shrimp was, what was it, 20? But he looked like a scrawny 16 year old. Tiny Tim was dragging Jack and Cody down at the gym, but Cody hadn't been able to persuade Jack to leave Tim at the dorm. Fuck the little bugger. Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. Jack went to fetch a glass of water, and left tiny Tim in the pec-dec machine close to Cody. He could hear commotion and kerfuffle downstairs and in the next room. A weird sound like a high-voltage electric current. It almost sounded like the women downstairs came. And men with deep voices having fun. Weird. Ought he to check out what was happening? The attention of everyone else turned to the entrance. Cody had a schedule to follow: Bench press. Barbell. Heavy. Pump. Gains. He returned the barbell to the rack. In the doorway into this room stood a man... a being... ...who would normally have seemed displaced, since he looked like something out of a sword-and-sorcery film. Normally, a muscular dude wearing a leather harness, a leather jockstrap, furs and boots would look camp and cheesy. Normally. The towering being that gazed at the gym members in the room was beyond normality and beyond everyday life: It exuded power – unlimited physical and supernatural power, and it knew it, as it watched the now shocked gym members. The short hair on its head was a sort of golden blond. Its steel-hard muscle mass bulged in all directions, arrogantly exposing its naked, sun-tanned flesh. It was surrounded by an overwhelming nimbus of martial virtue, masculinity beyond all limitations and an expectation to be obeyed by everyone. Its eyes were ice blue and commanding. Cody's mind began a silent insane ramble: YES! THAT was what he would like to achieve. He had aimed at the impossible: Though he was impressed by bodybuilders from the past, like Schwarzenegger who made all these cool old action films with bad special effects, and though he was impressed by modern mass monsters like Jay Cutler, Justin Compton and Dallas McCarver, he dreamed about going far beyond the results of these men, but he had never been able to visualise his ideal goals in any clear way. Now, the man... the Being... which stood in the doorway, looked like the embodiment of his innermost yearnings and most secret imagination. Cody shivered. Slowly, rational thought crawled through the throbbing, feverish and aroused revelry, which was his inner monologue: What was this man, this Being, this man-god doing at the gym? What was it doing here? How was this in any sense possible? Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Masculinity beyond all limitations. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Cody moaned. He could hear Jack letting out a yelp. Even tiny Tim moaned. The Being did a side-chest. The eyes of all present persons widened. The Being faced Jess and Jill. It made a suggestive thrust of its hips, and the sound similar to high-voltage electricity, that Cody had heard earlier, was repeated. Two currents of unknown and unholy energies emitted from the Being's crotch, zapped Jill and Jess between their legs, and the girls sank down on their training benches, their eyes rolled up in the skull, their bodies spasmodically twitching, and their mouths emitting feminine noises of excitement. The lights in the ceiling went out, but the dim light from outdoor street lamps fell in from the windows. The room became illuminated by a greenish, sort of, phosphorescent light. Cody felt hurt. He, not the Being, was the one who would take Jess and Jill to formerly unknown heights of pleasure. But at the same he was impressed. He wanted to be like the Being, to take part in its power, to share its essence. The Being waved its hand, and the gym disappeared. It felt like a dream. He was outdoors. It looked like a vast natural reserve, the sea not far away. Brooks running through the landscape with fish. Forests, but not very thick forests. Tall powerful men from the past in armed combat. Men like him, or, rather, men like he wanted to be. Loyal friends, protecting each other in battle. Hunters... Oh fuck! Hunters defeating large predators with large teeth with their bare hands... Alpha's of today looked insignificant to these men from the past. And then the sound of waves. Waves rolling in. A wave of water. A... that sort of... a wall of water, what's it called? A tsunami. He was back at the gym. By the look of their faces, his male friends all had seen the vision. Their female friends were still spasming on the training benches. "Men of the younger world." It was the first time the god-man Being spoke since its arrival to the gym. Its voice suited the way it looked: Deep, very deep, resonant. A battle cry and the promise of male voluptiousness. "Men of the younger world. I have shown you the glory, that once was Anghra-Lemur, but which is now The Sunken Hundred. I have returned over the gulfs of time and space. The powers of Anghra-Lemur are rising, and they will leaven the present world, and throw it away. I am the present embodiment of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur. I embody the power of thousand thunder gods. I embody the power of thousand sun heroes. Mine is the war frenzy. Mine is the battle cry. I fill brave men with duty. I fill the humble fighters with courage. I wipe the cowards and the evildoers away. I will allow Anghra-Lemur to rise again, because the time is at hand. But I need the raw material for the new men of Anghra-Lemur. I need those willing and those suitable, to become like the warriors of the forgotten time. My strength will permeate the chosen. My power will pervade the willing. My thew will saturate the suitable, and I will bestow upon them the divine powers of the forgotten god-heroes. I am Kortoth-Gnaah. I am willing to bestow all this." It seemed like all of the men were held under a spell, making it impossible to talk, only to think. The Being turned around, watching all of them. Cody's heart raced. YES! To hell with the bloody modern world. Some sort of Conan-world came crashing in. He couldn't comprehend how or why or what, but he knew one thing: He wanted to be in. Kortoth-Gnaah, wargod of Anghra-Lemur, watched Jack a few seconds. Then he stretched out his big hands in the direction of Jack. A green glow intensified around his hands, and then a powerful beam emitted and engulfed Jack in a sea of green, translucent, crackling power. Jack regained his ability to speak. "FUCK! So good! Can't believe it! Fuck! Look at me! My size! Growing! Can't believe it! Pump! Power! Pleasure! These biceps! Fuck! My traps, my back, my...! Oh! So good! Empower me, Master! Imbue me with... Nnnn. Fucking... Can't... Master... Growing..." Jack's rambling words turned into yelps, moans and grunts as he became taller, heavier and more muscled. Jack tensed, flexed, grew, his eyes staring in disbelief, and clothes from The Sunken Hundred materialising around him." Cody's heart was a sledge-hammer. Fuck, yes. Best friend. Jack. Bro. Becoming like a fucking Conan, a fucking He-Man... No! Far, far beyond those imaginary characters! Bro, becoming... Cody couldn't find words. And soon, Cody thought, it was his turn to receive the same blessing. He shivered. His cock throbbed. He was still pumped from the workout, and his antecipation was growing. Soon. Like Jack. Or The Being. Like Kortoth-Gnaah. Big. Big beyond measure. Jack was still growing beside the water vending, when Korgoth-Gnaah turned his attention to other parts of the room. Cody looked in disbelief, when Kortoth-Gnaah faced Magnussen. No? It couldn't be possible? Not the man who stole Jess from him. The green glow around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands grew again, and a beam struck Magnussen, who began to grow in the same manner as Jack had done. Magnussen reverted to his native language, which sounded as a string of guttural sounds, which probably fitted the situation quite well. Fuck. He hadn't connected Danes and vikings before, but Magnussen was turning into – perhaps not what vikings actually looked like – but into the popular imagination about them. It wasn't fair. Not Magnussen! Not the one who distract Jess. Jess... She was returning to consciousness, and saw what happened to Magnussen. When the transformation reached climax, she ran to Magnussen, put her arms around his waist, pressed herself close to him, and shouted: "Fill me with your little viking babies!" He would have his revenge. Soon, very soon, their Master would turn his attention in Cody's direction, and he would have the same brutal power, the same strength, or even more of it, and he would show Magnussen who's the Alpha among the Master's housecarls. Soon. Kortoth-Gnaah turned around. He looked in the direction of Cody. Cody smirked. He braced himself. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, but he knew it would be better than anything he could imagine, if the behaviour of Jack and Magnussen was anything to go for. Soon. Naked, sun-tanned flesh. Soon. Steel-hard muscle mass bulging in all directions. Soon. He could see the green shimmer building up around Kortoth-Gnaah's big hands again, as he watched Cody. YES! MASTER! ME! SOON! Masculinity beyond all limitations. Soon! The green flames intensifying. Cody closed his eyes and smiled. Soon. Unlimited physical and supernatural power. Soon. Cody swallowed, and braced himself for the incoming impact of the transforming, empowering rush of supernatural force. Soon. Nothing happened, but he could hear the familiar crackling sound of unnameable and unholy power in the air close to his bench. He opened his eyes. NO! Not tiny Tim! Not the shrimp. Not the scrawny hardgainer. Not the little runt. The little runt wasn't a little runt, anymore. A broad-shouldered behemoth bellowed in the pec-dec machine with his legs broad apart. Things didn't go as Cody had expected, and he fell into dark despair: An icy cold awareness arose that he wasn't one of The Master's chosen. Chapter Three is here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13105-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-three/
  19. Professor Schnackenburg's mistake

    I dedicate this story to GiganticBeast, who asked for something similar to this: Professor Schnackenburg's mistake Chapter One He remember how Ms. Giraud had presented him to his former tutor, Assistant Professor Smith, in the past: "Mr. Schnackenburg – B.A., archaeology student and expert in the occult." They had both watched one of the Indiana Jones films recently, and Josephine ... Ms. Giraud ... already had a sense of humour he had found himself appreciating. Ms. Giraud! Jet black hair, intelligent gaze, great sense of humour. In Schnackenburg's opinion, she had thrown away her excellent talent for archaeology, when she settled for a purely administrative post at the Department for Archaeology. On the basis of the quality of her Masters thesis, she could have been one of the great names in the field, if she had published a PhD thesis. Nor could he understand her preferences, when it came to men. She had never married, and none of her affairs seemed to last or lead to anything enduring, but Schnackenburg had been invited to uncomfortable dinners with her so many times, encountering a string of her several boyfriends: A marine, a builder, a policeman, a sailor. Even a professional bodybuilder once. Not the typical consort to bring to formal university dinners. What was Josephine supposed to speak about with any latest fling? Not strontium analysis of fossil teeth, that's for sure. Hell! Some of these men had upper arms as wide as his legs! It was good for his career, that he had generally hid his personal interest in the occult: It wouldn't have been good for his reputation, if his membership in The Order of the Rosary Cube and Calix Gradalis had been publicly known. Who would trust the scientific rigour of someone, who spent hours in weird meditations? Though the meditation practices had been useful in order to reach heightened awareness, his scholarly sense of critical evaluation had always kept him suspicious of the baseless legends about sunken continents. We now know about plate tectonics: There is no place in real pre-history for sunken continents like Atlantis, or Lemuria in the Indian Ocean, or Mu in the Pacific. After his PhD, he had specialised in two fields: Mesolithic Europe and deciphering unknown scripts, and he now read Linear A, Indus Valley script and Easter Island script fluently. He had never thought, that these two fields would ever converge. The Doggerbank excavation changed all that. Even if he didn't dive himself, he was responsible for the entire project, and he gave the divers – some of them his postgraduate students – careful instructions how to avoid any damage to the finds. When Brock McGurgan, a good-looking blond Canadian student of his, returned to the surface with the tablets and the bronze sword, Schnackenburg understood, that something sensational was going on. It had now been three years since the Doggerbank excavation. He could still remember the scent of the salt sea and seaweed, and he could remember how the hair on his forearms turned into goosebumps when he saw the greenish-gold hints of bronze. He could still remember the sight of the broad-shouldered MacGurgan taking the diving suit off. Doggerland had been a lowland island (but not a continent) that actually was flooded and drowned in the North Sea between Scotland and Norway during the Stone Age, leaving Dogger Bank under the sea level. The hunter-gatherers of Doggerland were not expected to have known farming or metalwork, nor to have any script or alphabet. A bronze sword and stone tablets written with some sort of text turned all expectations on their head. It had now been three years. MacGurgan had assisted him in cleaning the stone tablets, and the lad felt like a son to him. Schnackenburg looked forward to read MacGurgan's PhD, which was soon expected to reach completion: Bronze technology in Doggerland Culture: A revaluation of the Atlantic period. MacGurgan's enthusiasm and cheerfulness lightened up hard work on pollen analysis or dendrochronology. Outside campus, Schnackenburg had once seen another side of MacGurgan, which was hard to reconcile with Schnackenburg's general impression of his student: A drunkard had knocked over MacGurgan's beer by mistake, and the student had over-reacted and beaten the culprit several times. It felt like a block of ice in his gut, when Schnackenburg recollected the image of MacGurgan's undoubtly handsome face disfigured in a grimace of unbridled wrath, his ice blue eyes burning. It was like he didn't know the promising young man he thought he knew so well. Schnackenburg dismissed the memory, and turned his recollection to the hard work and great assistance of MacGurgan in the work on the Doggerland Tablets, as they were now known. Schnackenburg had spent hours upon hours with the tablets. No key to the code. No Rosetta stone. Sometimes, in late hours after worktime it had felt like the tablets spoke to him with ghostlike hollow voices: Howlings of forgotten wraiths and souls adoring long-forgotten unnameable gods. He had checked the results again and again, and forwarded the PDF to MacGurgan, who anyhow wouldn't understand the real-life implication of the translation. Double checked. Triple checked. Was it really possible? Was it decipherable? Could it really mean, what he thought that it meant? "Archaeology professor and expert in the occult". His profession and his hidden hobby merged. The silence of the night hours turned into the sound of his pulse in his ears. Hissing. Throbbing. The city outside the window, lit windows in high rise buildings. Strewn with stars. The weight of millennia resting on his shoulders. Still some scent of seaweed, which didn't seem to go away from the tablets. * * * Brock MacGurgan worked late. He had a deadline on his PhD, and his assistance concerning the Doggerland Tablets took up a lot of his thoughts. Wouldn't it be amazing if Professor Schnackenburg really broke the code of the tablets? What if they were close to the solution? And the sword... There was something with the sword, that spoke to MacGurgan on a deep level. Heroes. Fights. Combat. Victory. Old myths of stormgods battling reptilian elder gods. Old myths of solar heroes protecting mankind. The sort of texts one would expect to find in ancient civilisations. He had seen the Professor staring at the tablets so many times, enchanted by the impossible finds. Similar to the way he himself became more and more deeply enchanted by the sword. Fights. Heroes. With hands covered in gloves, he had taken the sword out of its glass showcase. It now laid unprotected on his writing desk. Bronze sword. Fights. Heroes. Sword of Anghra-Lemur. Wait? Where did that word come from? He wasn't the poetical type of person who invented things, even if he had been an avid reader of sword-and-sorcery novels as a teenager, and watched the children's programme He-Man in primary school. ...Sword of Anghra-Lemur... Stop hallucinating. Stop imagining things. Probably best to stop working late. He needed some coffee. A ping in his computer. Better check it later. After the coffee. Brock MacGurgan took his baseball jacket and walked in the direction of the espresso machine. * * * Schnackenburg trembled. The translation must have turned his rational faculties into a mess. It couldn't be possible. But if it was? His instincts as a trained occultist screamed at him. To avoid the unhallowed relics of unnameable powers. To run. To put the tablets and the sword under lock and key. Or to use it. Use it to prove himself to Ms. Giraud... Josephine. The powers of sunken Doggerland... The powers of Anghra-Lemur! The powers of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur! When he reached the glass showcase he stared in disbelief. Empty? But the only two having access to the sword were himself and MacGurgan? Frowning, he walked in the direction of MacGurgan's study. A bookshelf with standard works in archaeology. The Bell Beaker Phenomenon. Renfrew. Mallory. Svante Pääbo. Souvenirs from diving expeditions hang on the wall, beside a diploma from a Junior Men's Physique competition. A single task light was lit over the writing desk. The stump of a cigar was lying in an ashtray. MacGurgan's computer was working. The sword was there, but not MacGurgan. Schnackenburg felt as in a fever dream. He picked up the sword, and walked up the spiral stairs. * * * He really needed that espresso. MacGurgan returned to his study. He had to check that e-mail. He opened it. A PDF. A breakthrough. A hypothetical translation: He froze in his position. His blond hair tingled as of fear. He swallowed. He had imagined the word Anghra-Lemur before the e-mail arrived. An atmosphere of unreality lowered itself. Unconsciously and involuntarily he continued: The translation went on and on. The ancient Doggerlendings must have been a warrior culture, similar to the ancient Irish, the ancient Welsh and the Vikings. And they called their island or islands Anghra-Lemur. And the sword... MacGurgan looked for the sword. The sword was gone! MacGurgan had to calm down. What would he do? What would Professor Schnackenburg say? What would happen to his career? He had left the sword unsupervised. And it was gone! He lit a cigar to calm his nerves. No ancient item that could be harmed by the smoke anyhow. He tried to relax, and sat with his faded blue denim jeans in a wide manspread, his trainers resting on the floor. Deep breath. Some cigar smoke. Some espresso. The doors were locked. No one could enter. It was then he heard it. The impossible chanting sound from the spiral staircase leading to the tower room used for honorary social occasions. What in hell was going on? MacGurgan's worry began to turn into irritation. An intruder? Here? His archeological find? He rose from the chair. All his 6 feet 1 inches. He was still wearing his baseball jacket. Some nutcase had to be disarmed and handed over to the police. And Brock MacGurgan was just the right person to do it. * * * The dome gave the tower room a certain atmosphere, and the starry wisdom of the night sky looked down through the circular glass window over his head, but Schnackenburg was deeply in trance while he recited the more than 7000 year old enchantment, invoking preternatural forces which had been left slumbering for millennia. The scent of incense and the flickering light of the wax candles created a mood very far from the sherry imbibing receptions usually held in the tower room. Flickering light. Whisps of incense smoke. Shadows and starlight weavering into something unsettling and unspeakable. "Ye powers of blood and fang! Ye powers of brawn and brutality! Ye nameless ancestors of ancestor-warriors! Ye swordsmen who do not shun the name 'barbarian'! Servants of Kortoth-Gnaah, open ye the gates for the bloodstained war god of Anghra-Lemur, prepare the chosen vessel for divine power, let the ancient powers bestow their gift of prowess and might, as it was foretold! May the sinking of Anghra-Lemur be undone! May the white cliffs of Anghra-Lemur rise over the northen waves! May the last remnant of Atlantis return! May the last remnant of Lemuria the Ancient rise! May the unnameable powers assist me! I invoke Dagon!" One part of Schnackenburg was fully immersed in the powerful invocation. Something happened. The shadows in the room were more dense now. He could sense invisible eyes watching him. The stars shone intensely through the tower window, but not the stars of our time, but the bright night sky of an bygone, lost and forgotten age, far exceeding the 7000 years, that had gone since the sea level rose over Doggerland. Over Anghra-Lemur. Another part of Schnackenburg was silently screaming to him to stop. The dangers, if the invocation really worked, were unforeseeable, and only an insane man would try the attempt to force the elder powers. The cadences of primordial hymns and invocations of another aeon drowned any silent protest in his soul. Primordial hymns reaching out to creatures unknown to modern man. The third part of Schnackenburg's mind was ecstatically excited: He should prove himself to Josephine! He would intimidate any potential boyfriend she may have going for the moment. he would far, far exceed the prowess he secretly admired in young MacGurgan. He would become something beyond human limitations! He would... His pulse murmured and throbbed in his head. Something else throbbed inside his trousers. Arcane power began to tingle in his palms, as he stretched out his hands over the bronze sword on the table before him. Power streaming into the blade, renewing it, empowering it. * * * MacGurgan couldn't believe his eyes. Professor Schnackenburg performed some sort of occult ritual in the tower room, and there was an eerie feeling spreading, more and more intensely. The cigar dangled in his mouth. The baseball jacket couldn't hide his fit – but not extravagantly big – chest. The rubber soles of his trainers caused a squeaking sound on the highly polished marble floor. He braced himself to do something, but the murmuring and droning sound of the witches' rune lullied himself into a trance-like state, and the translation, that had burned into his mind when he had read it on the computer screen, rose from the depths of his memory, as the forgotten creatures of Anghra-Lemur were rising from the maritime depths and the dark abyss of time. Soon, he and Schnackenburg were chanting in unison, and there was nothing MacGurgan could do to stop it. "I invoke Cthulhu! Intervene in dread! I invoke Shub-Niggurath, the goat with the thousand young! Spread the air of revel and ecstacy! I invoke Yog-Sothoth, who is the Key and is the Gate! Open the gulfs of time and space! Cause the powers of ancient Anghra-Lemur to return! May, on the chosen vessel, the powers descend: The powers of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god of Anghra-Lemur!" MacGurgan was out of his mind now. He had a big lump in his throat. He felt very cold and very hot. His pulse was rising. Earlier in the evening he had been absorbed in wordless reverie over the Doggerland sword. It has spoken to him. It had allured to him. Beckoned to him. The sword of Kortoth-Gnaah. Schackenburg was unaware of MacGurgan's presence. "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" Schnackenburg was close to the brink of it now. The men of Anghra-Lemur would walk the earth again, and he would be the one who bestowed it to them: The ancient power of the war god. He couldn't imagine how it would feel, how... "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" ... how the power of supernaturally endowed stone age warriors would course in his veins, how... "Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah! Kortoth-Gnaah!" The next moment, McGurgan snapped the sword away from the table, outside his tutor's physical reach. MacGurgan swallowed. When he came into physical contact with the cold and heavy bronze he could feel a tingling feeling spreading from it into his body. The hair on his head and arms bristled intensely. His eyes widened. He couldn't believe it! He couldn't... "Kortoth-Gnaah! KORTOTH-GNAAH! KORTOTH-GNAAH!" He bellowed the name of the war god, eagerly lifted his sword above his head, and the next second the power of the ancient gods streamed into him. Immaterial thunder bolts rushed through the window in the ceiling. Engulfed him. Absorbed him and formed him anew. Transmuted him. * * * Schnackenburg had been too immersed in the chanting, to react in time to MacGurgans unforeseen action. Staring in disbelief, he could see MacGurgan surrounded by supernatural power beyond imagination, and a cold feeling of fear paralysed Schnackenburg, when he realised, that the chosen vessel was someone else. Remorse, envy and admiration competed within himself when he watched his favourite student become something more than human. Exhausted and destitute of any remaining mental strength, he fell to the floor. * * * MacGurgan couldn't believe it, but the being wasn't entirely Brock MacGurgan any longer, even if they still shared some memories and personality traits. His quads and hamstrings were filled by power from the forgotten Gulf of N'kai. Strength of thousand war gods, thousand thunder gods and thousand solar heroes was poured into his brawn, as if he had been a vessel, and this eager and willing vessel received the blessings, moaning and grunting as his brawn engorged all over his body: Veins spread, his biceps and triceps underwent undreamed hypertrophy, his trapezius deserved the description godlike, and he still expanded in every direction, now far exceeding the height of 6 feet 7 inches. He roared. He bellowed. He demonstrated his superiority to the mere human being who once had been his tutor. He watched the feeble creature: It wasn't worthy to worship him. He became immersed in visions of bygone Anghra-Lemur: Powerful men clad in hides strode over lowland plains proving their valour to each other in combat, and brutal hunters wrestled sabre-toothed cats and mammoths with their bare hands. Some of the same men were bestowed the strength of the gods, by the means once known in Lemuria and Atlantis. The power still accumulated within him. Filling him. Empowering him. Fire-mist descended. Fire-mist enveloped him. Fire-mist penetrated, filled and charged him. He became fire-mist. The immaterial flames of the elder gods reached into his soul, crushed his childhood memories into fragments, but out of the fragments and out of the collective memory of Doggerland, it formed something anew: No subcutaneous fat remained. His now bulging presence was cut and defined beyond imagination. Straps of leather materialised over his shoulders, and formed an X over his V-shaped torso. A leather jockstrap and some furs covering his glutes materialised out of thin air, and he realised that he was wearing pre-historical boots. A belt around his narrow waist carried a bronze buckle with the ancient seal of Kortoth-Gnaah. The thunderbolts increased in intensity. Physical heftiness filled him and became him. In the forge of the divine armourer aggression, dominance and lust melted into one, and he could feel his dick throb inside his leather jockstrap. The god of the barbarians walked the earth anew. The power was his. The might and the force. Brawn beyond comprehension. Mindless orgasmic bliss enrapt him when he felt his physical prowess, and he didn't know for how long he had been entranced. When he returned to any awareness of his surroundings, he watched the mortal on the floor. With a smirk, he performed a double biceps, watching the mortal on the floor. It moaned, spasmed, and a wet stain formed on its leg-clothes. Someone else entered the tower room. The dark silhouette of a woman against the light from the hallway. The mortal looked in her direction. "Josephine? What are you doing here?" "I was returning some files, when I heard thunder from the tower. I..." The female mortal fell silent. The vessel of Kortoth-Gnaah watched her in silence. Then he flexed his biceps again, thrust his hips in a suggestive way, and a current of power crossed the room, connecting the groin of the being and the groin of the female. She moaned loudly, and fell to the floor with a smile, unaware of her surroundings. The being didn't deign to behold any of the mortals, and left the town room. It was on a mission. It would let Anghra-Lemur rise again, and some selected few in this monstrous city of concrete, steel and glass were going to be transformed into warriors of the elder days. When it roamed the streets, it could absent-mindedly hear shouts in panic and rushing steps disappearing. It could hear transport vessels crash into each other, but it was of no concern. It needed the raw material suitable to become warriors of Anghra-Lemur. It found a night-open gym and a leather bar on the same street. It had found its raw material. Soon, the power of Kortoth-Gnaah would enrapt and transform them into suitable servants of Kortoth-Gnaah, war god Anghra-Lemur. The present world was doomed. The elder days would reappear in frenzy, mindless violence and voluptious pleasure. You will find Chapter Two here: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/13095-professor-schnackenburgs-mistake-chapter-two/
  20. Magic isn't real (part 3)

    Of course I was waiting for you. Sorry – I can’t stick around too long tonight. I have to work some magic with some others – well, yeah, I know it’s not magic, but whatever. You know what I’m trying to say. Yeah it’s been fucking hot. The AC broke in this place last night and the bartender is trying to get it fixed. But I see the heat has prompted the move to basketball shorts? Ah, I see – look at you swagging and going commando. I see your treatments have been producing some results you like? I bet you still get hard every time you bump into anything or think about someone noticing your thickening manhood, huh? Let’s look at you, big boy. God – fucking – damn, look at you. Your monster is really coming along, isn’t it? You look at least five or six inches soft by now. Are you tender? That’s a lot of growth in these two weeks. Let me outline the head…aaaaand, there you go. Man, you get thick, don’t you? Pulling your shorts legs…man, look at those balls. You got them big, too, didn’t you? They’re probably also pretty damn tender. You can’t wear jeans because your cock and balls would be pushing out the front zipper, huh? Hmm, you orgasm already? Your dick is pulsing…oh, that’s just your pre? Shit. Your dripping on the floor and onto my sandals. Mmm…you smell good, too. You like what I’m giving off? More cock growth juice. The fact that it’s hot in here makes it even better – I’ve been pooling it on my skin and it’s looked like I’m sweating, but I’m not sweating that much. I can wipe it off with a towel and ring it into a shot glass for you? Oh, or you can do that. Jesus H. Christ, your tongue on my neck…fucking fuck. Ugh…not the nipples. Fuck. FUCK. You…tr…lick…all of…god… Feel you…fuck…even bigger…need release…. Please. Please. Let’s try the bathroom. Muscle boy Christian isn’t coming tonight. He said he’d come by tomorrow for a drink. Let’s visit the bathroom. I know it was just cleaned. -- Close the door and lock it. So, last time I told you I know ways to make changes happen really fast. Calm down. Let me explain first. You absorb best through mucus membranes. Your nose, your mouth. Your stomach. But a place that I have found does the best and fastest job is up your ass. The rectum is insanely vascular, which is why hemorrhoids is a real thing. And I get a direct shot at your prostate. Will it take me time? To what? Put the proper hormones into my cum? Please. I’ve been loading it up and abstaining from cumming for two weeks, ever since I started my project with you. Damn, boy, you look like you been practicing. Let’s just see if you’re ready for me… God fucking shit, you’re tight. Uhh…uh…uhh….mmm…your…mmmmmm…asshole…fuuuuuuuuuuuu…so tight…mmmmm… -- You…uhhhhhhhhhhh…ready? God, just…UUHHHHHHHH. FUCKING CHRIST FUCKING GOD FUCK. *breathes heavy* God your ass was so good. No, keep down that way. Let me admire my work. Plus you need to absorb it all, and fuck did I give you a load. I might have produced a monster with that one! My body? I’ll tell you about my body later. Yeah I think you might be fine. You’ll leak a bit but not that much anymore. You want it all to stick around. Like I said, I can’t stick around much tonight. Oh, you are still looking happy. Well, I guess if I gave you a present – fuck, I can’t grab your cock, it’s so goddamn thick – you owe me a milk shake, no? Heehee.
  21. Magic isn't real (part 2)

    Hey, I remember you...Jake, right? You came back, huh? Clearly you didn’t think I was full of shit last week. Yeah, I frequent this place a bit. Bad habit, but it lets me work some of my stuff. Make some people happy. So, clearly something made you believe me. What was it that I said I’d do? It’s been a week. Oh yes. I see it clearly now. Your cock. I’m still being too loud? No one in here is paying attention to what we’re saying. People come here to get drunk, not to eave’s drop. Calm down – I see you pants aren’t. So, let me guess. You left here after I did, wondering what type of bullshit I was selling. About…an hour or two after I left?...you started to feel a weird sensation. It was like you were in puberty again. That dull ache that seemed to be everywhere that you didn’t like then, and you don’t like now. Except you felt it in your balls. You started to have that feeling that your balls might be bigger, or something is going on in there. A day or two later, you probably were noticing that everything that bumped into you made your dick immediately hard, right? It was like being a teenager all over again. It was so horrible – but so awesome – you kinda wanted people to know that this was happening, but not in public. Let me also guess that you’ve been walking around all week, aware of your cock, but also thinking that your pants feel a bit tighter in the front. The wiggle room that you once had isn’t there any more. It’s not much, but it’s noticeable, amirite? Found yourself playing with your junk, pushing it around when you had those two or three moments of being soft, wondering to yourself if it’s all an illusion? Does it actually feel a bit thicker? Does it feel a bit longer? You don’t seem the type to measure yourself, but god damn you wish you started, huh? Am I making you hard, recalling the week? Let me keep going. Tell me where I’m wrong and how I was full of it. I’d bet that last night you went to bed and woke up to a bunch of spasming in your – well, how do you sleep? Boxers? Ok, felt some spasms in your boxers. Cum all over the place, no? Reminded you of entering puberty and having that first wet dream all over again, huh? Did you feel like the pulses were longer, harder, and thicker than normal? Did you find yourself cleaning yourself even more than usual? Yeah, I thought so. Let’s feel. Oh, damn, daddy: you starting to pack. Are you liking this stroking? You twitch every time I get near your thick head. Yeah, daddy, you like this. I’m curious what you’ll look like in an additional week? Can you imagine if this keeps going? Yeah, I’m still pouring those hormones out around you. You can smell them, can’t you? That desire to keep around me? You want me to grow you more. Ooo, your aggression is up, too. Yes, daddy, show me how much more of a man you are. Mmm. Oh, you wanted to see what I did to the other guy? He was here on Monday. I asked his number. Let me see…ah, he’s on his way. Would you like me to keep pushing yourself to see if I can get you to shoot your juice all over the place, right here, right now? No? Damn. Let’s give it another week. I have a feeling you’ll be impressed by my first experiment…to your knowledge… Ah, speak of the devil and he shall appear. The muscle man comes in. I’m happy with how he’s dressed. Look at that tank top on him – do you notice those traps? They’re far more defined than they were last week, huh? See them actually pushing up towards his ears? And those delts on him – the V is far more defined on him, huh? Can you see the thickness separating the three heads of the deltoid? Damn. His thighs are filling out those shorts a bit more – I see his quads separating a bit. Nice bulge in the front too. What, I could have packed him as well. And…ah, I feel you’re getting hard again. *sniff* Hmm, I think you might be liking what you see? I smell you leaking “fuck me papi.” Am I right? Yeah, you feel like I’m right. Do you notice those biceps on him? Yeah, they look more defined than they did a week ago, huh? Notice how his tank is clinging more to this pecs. They’re rounder, aren’t they? They push a bit more out, don’t they? Doesn’t his chest look a bit wider? Maybe his waist is a bit tighter, or maybe its his chest slightly larger? Yeah, you don’t get that in lifting in a week. You get that if you lift for a week, like a mother fucker, and you have some superior genetics going for you. I think I need to give him some more, don’t you think? Oh, you want to join me in talking to him? Sure. Jake, meet my young muscled friend, Christian. Christian, Jake. How are you doing? You look like you’re hitting the weights a lot more. May I feel your guns? I’m kind of a muscle queen. I gotta feel power. Damn. What are these up to? 14”? You look like you’ve been packing onto your arms a lot in the past few weeks. And those veins! Sorry – it tickles – but tracing your veins is just amazing. Shit, you feel solid. Damn, I must be nervous – muscle does that – cuz I’m getting sweaty around you. Sorry, I sometimes smell a bit…yeah, TMI, no? I don’t wanna eat up too much of your time. Just wanted to say hi and introduce you to Jake. I’ll probably see you around. Clearly the beer here does the body good. So, what did you think of Christian? Yeah, I was having a hard time not wanting to touch that chest. You saw those nipples pointing through the tank, huh? Made you want to run your hands on them, under them, squeeze them? Oh, look: he’s turning around. He’s clearly been also working his ass. It’s starting to form that nice bubble, don’t you think? Yeah, he swings your way. I’d imagine that that butt would be a hard thing to split open. Yes, I see your thicker sausage stretching again. Does this talk get to you? You seem to be leaking – yeah, I see your pants, right near your hip…damn. Could you imagine bending Christian over, feeling that broadening back leading to that slender waist, shoving that thick cock of yours into him? Do you think you push harder than his ass could resist you? I’m wondering. You’d like to try? The bartender here keeps the bathrooms clean. He’s pretty good, and as long as you don’t make a mess, he’s fine with you trying out the bathroom with Christian. Haha, you will? I’ll just be here. I’ll wait. … Damn, that was, how long? Shit, that smile on your face. I see Christian hasn’t come back yet…oh, he’s going to have trouble walking? Well, no shit Sherlock, you were in there for half an hour. Was his ass as glorious as we could guess it to be? It was? Fuck. How many ways you fuck him? Six? Shit. I see you’re still hard at the thought of him – feeling hornier than usual, eh? Yeah, I’ve been loading you with more hormones. It’s gonna make you harder, thicker, longer, hornier, and full of so much more cum…yeah, you’re leaking again. Well, go get him. I’m sure he hasn’t moved too far from where you bred him. Shall I see you again in a week? I’m sure you’ll have plenty to show off. Ok. I’ll see if I can make your little muscle boy even bigger for you. I have my ways.
  22. Magic isn't real (part 1)

    Oh, hey. Sure, you can buy me a drink. Thanks. Hmm, you think there’s an aura about me? Why do you say that? There’s something about me that seems different…that, feels different? Yeah, let me explain some things. Some of you would call it magic, or godly powers, or something stupid like that. Not saying you’re stupid, but the ideas are. Kinda. You hear of these people who can squat 1000 lbs, or have 20 inch biceps, or cannot get sick, or something else that seems cool that you wish you can do…and then you try to figure out how they did it. Those things fall, sorta, within the normal realm of human possibility. But what about those people who get hit by a truck and survive? What about those people who somehow hit growth spurts in their 30s and 40s and gain inches…everywhere? What about these people who seem to fly, or can lift anything they want, or cum a gallon or more? That shit is clearly made up, right? Or, as we humans like to attribute such things, it’s clearly the work of magic? Y’all watch those Avengers movies and think that’s all made up, because it can’t be real…. I’m here to let you know that it’s not magic. It’s science. And I tell you that because I’m one of those…well, freaks, if you will…and I know how I do what I do. You see, I have a gift. It took me a while to figure out my gift, but I got it none-the-less. I’m calling it a gift because it’s actually possible for any of you to do this – but, for whatever reason, I can and you can’t. I have the ability to change your body to, well, a lot of things. Not everything. I can’t make you a fish, and I can’t make you 30 feet tall, and I can’t make you sprout an extra cock. I’ve tried, it doesn’t happen. Without going into too much detail, we are the product of two things: the environment around us, and our genetics. Nothing is one hundred percent one or the other. Why are you short? It could be your genes, but it could also be your environment. It could also be both, which sucks, but such is existence. I can’t do much about the environment, but I have the ability to influence your genetics. No, I don’t rewrite your body’s genetic code, but I can mess with your genes’ expression rates. There are these funky chemicals we give off, called pheromones, that help dictate gene expression. Again, I don’t understand this part, but I can control which pheromones and gene regulators I secrete into the environment around me. You sniff them in, you absorb them through your skin, and boom. I am now changing your genetics. The skin’s the best, though – direct contact. I’m also pretty good at detecting pheromones, which is weird for guys. We don’t typically pick up on this stuff as well as women do. That’s why they’re always ‘oh, I have a bad feeling about this person,’ and all that catty shit. They’re reading pheromones. Maybe it’s because I can deal ‘em, I can detect levels of pheromones being given off. Some of them are hormones excreted by your skin, which aren’t in high doses, but I can tell. Yeah, I can sniff if someone’s in heat or got performance issues or even if a person’s got cancer. That lady over there, talking to that guy who wants nothing to do with her? Her FSH is off – the – chart. Oh, you don’t know what that…nevermind. I don’t know how many of you took high school biology, but let’s summarize a whole lot of shit you don’t remember succinctly: fucking with genes takes a long time, because there are lots of things going on. If I walk past you and release the chemicals to make your muscles grow, you aren’t going to gain 30 pounds in the next three seconds. That’s not possible, and your heart couldn’t handle it. I can’t make you gain ten feet in height, because your body couldn’t handle pushing blood up fifteen feet into the air. There are limits to these things, ok? Science is science. I just can fuck with what science lets me. Oh, you don’t believe me? Ok. Let’s do an experiment or two. It’s gonna take some time, so you gotta be patient. See that guy over there? The one talking with that tall guy having one too many Guinesses? He’s trying to gym consistently and he wants to gain some muscle. How did I figure that out? You’d expect me to say I can “read minds,” but that shit ain’t possible. Ever try to figure out your own thoughts? Yeah, exactly. He’s like 5’5”, maybe 100 lbs, and he’s wearing a LVFT shirt. People who don’t lift, or want to lift, typically wear that. Shall we verify? Told you. Oh, I said he has a nice brand of shirt and he smiled and said he’s been hitting the gym for about a month. He’s frustrated that the growth isn’t as fast as he’d like. Why did I touch him on the arms? Ah, you weren’t paying attention, were you? Touch is the best way to deliver the pheromones. I got them to concentrate on my left hand, so when I asked to see his progress – yeah, he’s trying – I had an excuse to feel his arm and, boom. I had to apologize for having a “sweaty palm,” cuz I left his arm wet. I made sure I poured out a lot for him. Had to have an excuse, so I blamed it on the heat. It’s always hot in this bar, which sucks cuz the drinks are good. He said he comes here regularly, so I said I’d get him a drink the next time I’m here and he is too, which is next Thursday. Yeah, conveniently a week from today, no? I’m pretty sure you’d want to come back to see if I’m full of shit or not. For full blown muscle growth, it typically takes a few weeks to see pounds of muscle mass to be gained. Wait, you think that’s normal? Hell no. A few pounds a year is pretty spectacular. I’m not entirely sure – I will need to smell what he’s giving off next week – but I think I gave him enough for thirty or so pounds. That’s a lot, and he’ll be showing. What’s in this for you? Well, I told you an experiment or two. You’re the second experiment. I can’t figure it out from what your body is dumping off, but your testosterone, hGH, FSH, dihydroxytestosterone, LH, progesterone and androstene levels smell normal. Doubting there are enzyme deficiencies. So, I’d guess you’re packing what? 6 inches? Something about average? Yeah, I figured. Oh, oops. Sorry if I’m being too loud – I do like this Jaegermeister shit. I like these, um, discrepant events? You think one thing is the case, while I’ll show you’re wrong. Yeah, this works for doing other things, too. I’m still not great at the cancer thing – but I’m working on it. If I figure it out, yeah, the medical community is gonna know. What about my body? Oh, I’ll explain that later. Sad story. So, while we’ve been here, I’ve been pouring out as many of those hormones as I could. Hormones, pheromones, eh, they basically do the same thing. I’m giving you some other fun things that only target your dick. This will be a bit more entertaining, because you’ve been sniffing it for the past thirty minutes. It’s stuck on your clothes. You’ll keep absorbing it after I say goodbye. If I’m not full of shit – and I’m not – I’ll see you in a week with a bit more stretching your pants than I can feel right now. Yeah, it’ll take time, just like my muscle man project over there. Oh, I’m good to go home – I live within walking distance. See you next Thursday.
  23. Lemme know if you guys like this story. I like the feedback Part 1: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/9354-basically-a-god/ Part 2: https://muscle-growth.org/topic/12786-basically-a-god-part-2/ Part 3 I groaned as I tried to lift the heavy weight over my body. The darkness didn’t help me find my grip but the form of Johnny’s arm alone gave me a mental map of where each massive, hyper lean muscle was. Johnny had fallen asleep over me as we were watching another cartoon superhero movie in the building’s massive cinema inspired theater between the upper and lower floors. Somewhere in the middle, I guess, the massive arm Johnny had put at the head of my seat had become dead weight and fallen on top of me, placing what felt like bricks made of steel on my lap. I wish I had more lighting to tell if Johnny was just fucking with me or not but Johnny was so insistent on a theater room identical to a movie theater that we had to sit at the very back of the theater to avoid Johnny’s big head and traps blocking the light directed at the large screen, now rolling credits. As I heard snoring several feet above me, it became clear that Johnny really had fallen asleep and this was not one of his usual pranks on me. I actually wondered if he really was sleep, though. Johnny’s enhanced brain functions probably made his sleeping much lighter and, therefore, he could very well be both in a state where he was both asleep and awake, watching over his own body and also having a dream about creating a nuclear reactor capable of fueling all of the world’s energy for the next century. At the realm Johnny’s powers had recently reached, nobody could really know. Johnny’s ability to bend the world around him with or without his will was daunting. Yes, he loved to appear the hero to people but I doubt that he’d be able to control the desire in people to want to watch him do his daily “chores”. Chores for him were the basics: blow out a few fires in the city, help with a bit of construction in a few spots around the block. “It’s all to keep my powers in check” he’d say as he would be lifting something like his magnetic weight set, set to a weight that he could keep an eye on and talk to me at the same time as we’d be watching TV on the leather couch on the top floor. “My powers are growing so fast, I’m coming too close to putting people in danger at this speed.” I was pretty much incapable of denying that logic (as usual). The last few years of Johnny’s ascent into an mighty superhero had led to many accidents along the way. I couldn’t count the number of doorknobs that needed replacements or the number of doorways that needed to be rebuilt. When he’d first reached at least some form of reasonable superhuman power, he’d lifted a fire truck over his head and had quickly gotten the hang of curling them on his daily workouts. He’d once almost broken a woman in half after catching her during a skydiving fiasco, a move he’d seen from one of the earliest Superman movies. The woman, now paralyzed from the waist down due to the impact of her body hitting two hyper dense arms, still sent postcards of her trips around the world, paid by Johnny’s financial advisor. These were only incidents from almost half a decade ago. Now it was more serious of an issue as we moved from our small town in the Midwest to New York. When we’d first arrived, Johnny wasn’t his “small” 6’4 height anymore. He was nearly 7 feet tall at that point, and almost 3 feet wide. People on the sidewalk jumped out of the way of him as he’d still not quite gotten used to having to maneuver not to knock people into walls and such. Cars weren’t like that though. Thankfully, Johnny’s brand of unnatural attraction made it very easy to convince the man that he liked his car better in the shape of a U. That’s the area where I realized Johnny liked to live, in the grayest area between hero and not. The reason I guessed he was sleeping now and using his arm like a paper weight on my comparatively feeble body, now exceeding my waist in width by 10 inches at 38 cold, was due to the fact that he’d taken me on his usual chores. I was beside myself as I’d watched him save a woman from getting mugged in the deeper parts of New York, saved a bank from a man attached to a bomb by throwing him into the sky upon detonation, and then mowed the lawns of a few old women in New Jersey. The last one’s key because he’d done it using nothing but heat vision, a power he’d said before had the heat intensity to burn several buildings and had leveled an old mountain pass owned by the doctors leading the “Johnny Project”. It had happened in a red flash, my momentary blindness only secondarily important as I started at Johnny’s work. Each leaf of grass had been trimmed perfectly, each one perfectly matched to its friends without a single trace of the expected burn marks. Johnny just rewarded me with a toothy smug grin as he’d proved how much control he had over his powers. He’d gone on to do this for most of the day, only stopping after his phone, tailored to his significant size and made extra durable, buzzed against his iron hard butt cheek, clad in only his everyday, spandex uniform. It was at that point that it was clear to me that he wasn’t at all like your text book superhero. It was a call leading to a PR event made to another one of the charities he supported with his deep, deep pockets. He fit right in with the mother millionaires and billionaires at the party naturally. After all, he was the richest man in the country, funded with more money than was given to half of your average state. I won’t call him corrupt like some of the others I met at that PR event. He spent an extremely large portion of his funds on charities inside and outside the country, a move coming from the justice loving side of him as he truly believed, as he said to me before, “rich people in this country need to worry about helping their own country as much as any other”. However, the other side of him was a lot greedier. I saw as Johnny’s eyes were quickly fixed on the tight dresses of many of the women at the event. I groaned as I quickly realized I’d be taking a taxi home when I saw him eye Sandra Daxon, the richest woman on the eastern border of north America. I groaned again when I realized he’d wrangled her and a group of women I saw quickly dislodge their engagement and wedding rings from their fingers before coming up to him to try and flirt. These realizations were the perfect backdrop for when I realized he wasn’t even going to stay for the whole event as he’d finished his speech, his deep voice making the women he’d flirted with coo and want him more. Meeting back at the present, he’d left the girl’s lying in his bedroom, tiring them all out after 3 hours of non-stop sex. I’d learned early, back when we’d still lived in the Midwest, that Johnny’s sex drive was a really unfathomable thing. He’d had sex with many of the young women in our town (maybe more than the amount he’d told me about) and practically had fucked them through the floor in the mansion he used to own before coming to New York and having his hulking tower built. I remember each night he’d brought a bushel of women with him, their eyes fixated on him and their faces almost zombie like as they’d come to be taken and conquered by the behemoth he was. Then, he’d gone for 6 straight hours of fucking, my bed room below his having been shaken by the movements and sounds above. I doubted he was ever really sated the way he vanished 50% of the day and just returned with a grin on his face, the normal hop in his step. I dared to look down at his muscles in the light of the movie’s projector reaching the end of its contents and flashing a white screen on the theater. Johnny’s white tee shirt and white shorts did nothing to hide the power his nearly 8 foot body coveted. Each ab was in bold and blocky relief as he lay on his lower back, the seats in the theater recently becoming too small to hold his big butt unless he sat straight up. His knees were bending the seats set in front of him like they were made of rubber and his legs were spread wide, making it difficult for me to find a way out from under his arm. I could feel his big lat pressing down on me as he stretched out. Defeated, I let the weight push me down, fastening me to my seat. I couldn’t see Johnny’s face past his massive shoulders and shelf like chest but what I could see made my cock bounce feebly against the weight Johnny’s massive forearm. With his bulging thighs spread, Johnny’s massive cock sat on his shorts, the space inside looking cramped as his cock stretched down between his legs. Was it always that big? My eyebrows raised when I saw a jump in his struggling crotch. The mound was like an anaconda, stretching bigger in search of an opening from its cloth prison. I was impressed the pants were able to contain so much of Johnny as his pants started to pop and tear. His cock straightened over time and pitched a tent in his pants that was getting taller and taller as he slept. I dared reach for my cock and try and cover it but it was useless, his arm was immovable and wouldn’t budge an inch for me. I was indefinitely pressed against the wall as Johnny began to move in his sleep. I watched he reached his opposite hand down to the bulge in his pants and began to massage it with his big hands, the comparison between the hand and the hidden beast becoming phenomenal as it stretched longer and longer. A foot and a half....... Two feet........... two feet and a half..............more! Johnny’s cock was a leviathan roaring out of its prison. The stretching shorts completely tore and the whole only widened as the godly endowment grew. I dared to wonder if it would grow bigger than me as it reached up to Johnny’s far reaching pectorals and continued to stretch and stretch. I quivered as I felt Johnny’s body becoming hotter as his cock reached higher and his balls hung lower. His lap was beginning to overfill with ball sack. I could see the veins on his balls as they looked overstretched yet they still pumped more and more inhuman cum to remain full and bloated. How big could this monster get, I wondered as my own cock continued to pointlessly move against Johnny’s might. When it finally reached its max size, it probably reached higher than his head. The massive cock was probably so thick that it was potentially impossible to fit through some doors. Johnny, rubbing against the 8 foot mark with his heat, probably could have poked the usual 9 foot ceiling easily with the monster hovering above the ground like a leaning tower of penis. It’s perfect form was graced with several veins that made its reddened surface appear vascular and intimidating. I couldn’t see Johnny’s face but the moaning vibrating through his body into me couldn’t be anything less than the power of his deep, baritone voice, shaking everything around him with its strength. I’d stopped moving as I realized that my fate was sealed the moment his cock began to drop what appeared to be the thickest pre-cum, dripping it down into the seat in front of us. I only had moments to admire the testament to manhood before I felt the limbs around me move. I kept trying to use the movement to get out from under Johnny but it took three attempts to realize three things. One, he wasn’t moving, Johnny was perfectly still. Two, there definitely wasn’t any chance of me escaping. Three, Johnny’s muscles were growing. I looked around my head and realized Johnny’s muscles were bloating and swelling, their hardness and weight the only thing to remain. I was pressed more roughly into the seat I was in and felt like I was having trouble breathing as his body swelled without getting taller. Muscles bulged and grew more veined, my strength becoming more pathetic as Johnny seemed to be revealing his true form. I raised my head in a direction that would give a chance to see as I continued to watch this godly event, the pain in my chest and legs seeming unimportant as Johnny’s hand moved. It moved slowly at first, moving up the terrifying large length of his cock. Muscles collided powerfully as his now bigger bicep collided with his now larger and more dominant chest. His perfect superhero like form had swollen to a beautifully grotesque form where, regardless of his impressive grace, he couldn’t avoid colliding muscles to muscles. His cock appeared angry and extremely volatile as, after each stroke, it oozed a little more of its clear honey like liquid, dripping down and soaking the seats further down as the closest one. I felt sorry for the cleaning ladies who’d have to wipe this up. Or was I? A mix of emotions were hitting me that I seemed to have no time to register as I felt suffocated by Johnny’s ill controlled muscles. I felt like he would crush me under his size and power at this rate as he continued to rub his monster cock undisturbed and unaffected by my struggling. I tried to scream or shout his name but it was useless. I had a feeling I’d die like this as I felt my mind ebb and my eye sight fade to darker colors. I gasped and breathed for air, thinking I’d die to him. Die to this god. Johnny had warned me that he had to train his powers daily to be able to contain all of this power and avoid hurting anyone. It had just taken his unconscious body moments away from crushing me to the wall for me to realize it. I was ready to die and sacrifice myself when the massive arm, how wider than my chest, finally moved and I took a deep breath. Johnny had switched to wielding his big meat with two hands, still not even coming close to wrapping around the godly weapon. Johnny’s arm muscles were colliding with his chest as his body was moving to please him, what I assume, unconsciously. My cock was now sticking from my jeans roughly and bouncing up and down trying not to react to the heat Johnny was emitting. I heard him grunt and each burst of deep vibration made me quiver in my seat. I rubbed the snake in my pants, ignoring the fact that I’d almost died to this supreme being, and watched as his rubbing became more rapid. It was then I noticed that the ground was shaking little by little. I worried if the building could handle this much power as the rumbling shook the room and the lighting that was coming from the lights in the wall began to flicker after only just coming on. “You’ve got control to level a fucking lawn but you can’t keep from destroying your own building in your sleep??” I tried to call to him but he clearly couldn’t hear me over the vibrating building. At the literal moment before the eruption, I thought I heard a ringing sound as though a bomb had gone off. Then, like a military tank’s cannon, a white burst of cum shot from his cock and hit the walls. The ground shook and Johnny’s groaning was now supernatural as I could still hear his unnaturally deep voice rumbling through my chest. His cock fired volley upon volley for what seemed like an eternity. Cum was dripping from the ceiling and dripping down the aisles as cum fired from Johnny. The thin fabric of the movie screen had torn and left gaping holes. Plaster was falling from the ceiling with the cum rain. Glass cracked, seats bent out of shape. Johnny was large but he was massive but his cock was destroying things from meters away. I could guess that his power was strong enough to shred a car to pieces as holes and craters littered the walls, dripping cum as well. It had taken a full 10 minutes before Johnny’s massive cock and balls had finally halted their assault and left the room silent except for my heavy panting, the dripping of cum from every surface, and his deep breathing before he returned to his snoring. Being behind him had rescued me from the onslaught of his cock as he lay there in his destroyed pants, his cock still massive and throbbing like a normal cock at 20 times the size. There was no doubt in my mind his cock was almost if not as big as I was. My fixation, however, was on the fact that I’d survived this disaster. With a popping snore, Johnny jumped awake and lazy looked down at me over his chest and raised his arm. “Hey, buddy, what’s up?” he asked before looking around. When he saw his cock and the destruction it had caused. “Oh.”
  24. An Adverse Reaction (Part 2)

    Hello all, Part 2 of Adverse Reaction. I hope you enjoy, will need ideas for my next story, so please feel free to message me with suggestions. For the next few days, Nick avoided me wherever he could. I didn’t see him for several days initially following the unusual events that took place in the gym shower. I had continued to grow all the way back from the gym at a much slower rate; it seemed over the next few days that I also continued to grow increasingly more powerful in the gym. My lifts were going up and up and so was every part of me. I couldn’t believe how strong I was getting, it was like a dream come true. However, despite clearly trying to avoid each other it was inevitable that we would bump into each other in such a small flat. That day came almost 8 days after the shower incident. I was struggling to squeeze myself into my old clothes. My slender jeans and slim fit tops were now discarded in the back of my wardrobe as they split when I put them on. Either that or they fought with pecs for space or dug into my arms and shoulders with incredible discomfort. Now I had to settle for baggy jeans or baggy shorts and my old hoodies or sports jerseys. Unfortunately I owned very few, and all my shirts now, began to stink of man after about 4 hours of wear. Apparently whatever my body was now kicking out, it smelled strong and powerful, just like the rest of me. I waited for a day when Nick wasn’t in. It was a plan that required patience, but I found that my new persona was hungry for a change in the dynamic at home. I grinned as my phone chirped. I looked down and opened up the grindr profile, I had paid extra to have the full app and get the notifications, because it was all part of the major plan. My grin was because, some new pics of me had sent my sexual appeal into the stratosphere and I was enjoying my new found appeal by fucking tight ass like a man in a desert, drinking water, for the first time in months. One new revelation out of all of this, was an increasingly dominant and slight sadistic streak in the bedroom, which had proceed to have grown only stronger in keeping with my outward appearance. I loved to watch down over my newly minted pectorals to see them suck me off, their eyes fixed on mine. The power of it. I knew I was getting hooked on it as a sensation. However, I also knew my plan involved me having to put that to one side, to achieve what I wanted. Knowing what I liked as a dominant in the bedroom, I began to talking to fellow dominant muscle guys. Guys who could gift me the very thing I craved. More power. Posing as a fit, athletic submissive, I found it tough to find the right dominant. Until today. I knew my housemate was out. The timing was perfect. This guy was just right. Arrogant and rude. Older by 15 years. Married with kids. Bulging with muscle and hung to fuck. I couldn’t steal from a guy like me, I had to take it from someone with ego, someone who looked down on me. Someone who only saw me as an inferior male specimen. The phone chirped again. As was the plan, he was coming right over from the gym. I had to be ready for him, on my knees, wearing a sports vest and a jockstrap. I looked over at the bedside table. There waiting for him, fresh from the gym, was an ice-cold, orange coloured protein shake. As I heard the handle of the front door turn, I was on my knees, I picked up the protein shake and held it out in front of me. If this worked, well… This was going to be amazing. He entered. He said nothing, but snatched the shake and kicked me backwards onto the floor from my kneeling position. I dulled the malevolent look in my eyes and watched as he drank the post-workout shake as I had offered to have ready for his arrival. If it tasted of anything, he did not express it. I watched his thick, powerful arms hold the shaker aloft. Sweat streaked his huge physique, he wore only a black string vest and some loose red gym shorts. He kicked off his shoes and stepped towards me. I could smell his fresh, fierce gym scent. My face in line with his crotch, I could smell his uncut cock. Suddenly it kicked in the light polyester shorts. It surged towards me, huge. Bigger than Sam. He growled as I massaged his legs, the organ pulsing to life, growing hard and thick. Moments later, he had lost control, grabbed me by the vest and the jock, shouldered his way into the bedroom and dumped me on the bed. Only, this was Nick’s room. I didn’t have time to correct things, as this guy was on me. Using me for his own pleasure. His cock pulsed down the length of my back, he grabbed me by the neck and I felt the searing pain of his cock enter me. It was brutally painful and I grunted, but he stifled it with one big sweaty palm over my face. He rammed my face into the bed, forcing my ass up. My hands gripped the edge of the mattress and I was forced to breath in my housemates acrid stink, which would have previously made my own cock harden. But I was becoming a different creature now. I wanted to fight back and push this asshole off me. But I wanted to grow. I had to be right, it had to be this luminous orange shit Sam had been necking everyday. The guy behind me, grunted and laughed at my apparent pain. His organ really was monsterous and he was damn strong. I could hear the wooden bedframe, creak, that unmistakeable sound of wood splitting as he ploughed me. Nick’s furniture moved across the floor between each, titanic thrust. Then it happened, I felt his cock thicken, and then thicken again, straining my hole. I felt him began to fire round after round into me. The change, was immediate. I felt it inside me. Like a spark to a freestanding pool of diesel. I ignited. My head rose up. “Oh fuck yes… FUCK…. YES….” Was about all I could utter as it ripped through me. Energy, masculine energy suffused my limbs. I felt my ass kick back, my thighs bulge with new mass. Fuck, I felt strong. My back cracked and I lengthened up the bed. I grinned as it hit my shoulders. I was no longer able to hold onto the roleplay fantasy as I felt my shoulders undulate and widen, lats surging in power. “Yes… I’m g-growing… This is fucking amazing…” I felt the softening cock slip out from me. I rolled over and saw the expression in his face. It was a face I had not seen before, a mixture of revulsion and desire. He loathed watching me grow but desired it for himself. He was torn, he felt drained, he wanted to leave, but he needed to know how too. I extended my longer legs over the bed, sprung forward with my strengthening arms and stood in front of him. I grinned at him only now slightly less tall than him, but in a split second, the margin vanished. I growled again. My pecs surged and thread of my vest creaked and split at the shoulder. I inhaled deeply and the split widened into a tear, revealing the bulging mass beneath the fabric. Another tear, this time from below. He looked down and went pale. His prior former glory, soft and hanging limp, looked smaller than he had every seen it. It’s mass, very obviously being siphoned into its opposite number as my small jock was being shredded by the growing mound of my package. I laughed as it tore open the jock at my right hip and my newly grown organ fell forwards, thick, large and pointing menacingly at him before it pulsed larger again. My nuts beneath, not left out from the transformation. I brought my arms up and flexed, they bulged with power. My features refining, my masculinity surging as he, went the other way. His previous bulging ripped physique, was still big, but much softer. He was shorter, looked less masculine but I mostly seemed to have drained him of his cock, which looked woefully average now. He looked between my taught biceps and his own softer upper arms as I flexed, I was captivated my their shape and bulge, a big thick vein now across the surface of my left bicep. I looked back at him. “Now fuck off, or I’ll take more…” His trainers made a plastic squeal as he made for the door, stumbling twice over his now, too large shoes. I grinned, turned to Nick’s mirror and flexed. This was amazing. It would be several more days before I could take this new found ability and turn it back against Nick. Had I felt any pang of morality about going through with it, it seemed to evapourate with my last growth. I considered, I was becoming no better than Nick or the asshole who just saw me as a convenient hole, but somehow, I didn’t seem to mind. ********* It was on the day when I had no more clean sports jerseys to wear that I squeezed my newly bolstered frame into the biggest tee I had. Instead of looking ridiculous, I looked incredible. I was never going to hide myself again I snickered, watching myself in the bathroom mirror, my biceps straining the sleeves, chunky veins emerging from beneath the cuffs and my new enhanced pectoral shelf straining the shirt. Just looking at myself made the sleeping organ in my jeans pulse. As I was about to flex in the t-shirt, I heard the door to the bathroom swing open and Nick stepped in. He was dressed only in a towel. “I need a shower” “Yeah, I’m nearly done Nick, you can wait 2 minutes” My blood burned as it pumped through me. I honestly couldn’t remember the last time I had stood up to Nick, this was incredible. He looked at me malevolently. As I finished tusseling my hair with wax in the mirror, I gazed admiringly as my biceps swelled at bulged as my hands worked on my coarse, thicker hair. I glanced across in the mirror, Nick was watching my arms too as our eyes never met. “Right, all yours bro…” I grunted and exited the shower, smiling at the unmistakable hardening of Nick’s thick organ against his towel. He would never before have gotten aroused by me, but I couldn’t be sure if it was his protein that caused it, or whether Nick had always been secretly attracted to muscular jocks. As I walked out of the bathroom, it dawned of me that Nick would be in there for some time. His room would be unguarded. Checking over my shoulder, I crept into his room. The scent of his room more familiar now that my own bedroom was developing its own masculine scent. A quick glance across the counters and floors, did reveal that Nick had been entertaining Jenna recently. He left the very thing that I wanted, just lying there. I grinned and got to work. I traced the edge of my water bottle with a finger through the car ride, its precious cargo the only thing I could think about. Nick’s malicious gaze continued to drift from the traffic ahead onto my swollen arms, the size and obvious power, stretching the sleeves of my previously baggy t-shirt, whereas his underarmour hid what he had clearly lost very well. He had managed however, to quite easily convince himself, he was no less of a man than he was the previous week. As we arrived at the gym, as we exited the car I took my first gulp of my water bottle, the lemon juice not really disguising the digusting taste of his ejaculate. I loved the feeling of pure energy as it burned down my throat before setting a raging fire within my gut. More suddenly than I expected I began to feel myself grow as we crossed the car park, I could feel the arms of my t-shirt dig into hardening biceps, my burgeoning arm reached down to readjust my package which was becoming rather uncomfortable in my new jock, I bought to replace the previous one. “Stop playing with yourself…” Nick scolded his voice breaking as he did so. I loved the feeling, watching him wilt as I grew stronger and stronger. It was hard to avoid the temptation to drink all of the contents of my shake, but I resisted. I walked over to an empty weight bench, the agreed exercise to be shoulder press. After a quick warm up, I grabbed his usual working weight and hefted it over to him. He looked a little anxiously at the large imposing dumbbells before turning his face into a snarl. He hardened the look as he got his arms into the perfect start position with a little help. I stood back and took another big swig of the potent protein shake. On his second rep and his arms visibly twinged as his muscle thinned, his face strained as his arms struggled. “Bro…” he struggled growing red in the face As his face glowed so the change rocketed through me, I could feel my chest swell outwards. My tee was now edging towards dangerously snug. The end of my shorts were now rubbing the top of my knee and not the top of my calf as the flourishing muscle and elongating limbs, pulled them vertically. I positioned myself behind him, and applied a very firm pressure from beneath his elbows to help with the weight, but he still struggled, the contours of his elbows feeling flatter and softer. His weakening arms inched upwards a little more before stopping, as his muscle ebbed, it felt like I was draining it right out of him. Nick’s arms collapsed and the heavy dumbells came clattering to the floor, he leaned forwards onto his knees totally spent. Before we switched seats I took another big swig of the shake. My weight was less than Nick’s but much more than I would normally throw around. I hefted the weight into position, getting one up with the help of a quad, as the undeniable cracking of the hem of my shorts resounded in the air of the gym. I pressed the weight, from my stance I could feel the bulge in my underwear swell, the feeling of wellness and masculine power bolt through me as I pressed the weight, after the second rep, it felt light. It felt like the worlds best pump. But I knew better, I was growing still. I racked the weight, and grinning, watched Nick’s face fall as I grabbed more weight. I restarted shoulder pressing the heavier dumbells, now matching Nick’s weight, it was tough at first but it got slowly easier as I felt my growth continue but at a slower pace. The delts fought back hard against the taught fabric, the power of the muscle winning out on the fifth rep, as two seams cracked. The protuberant muscle tearing the fabric apart. I grinned at Nick who looked white with shock. The sixth rep, forced the muscle to bulge larger again, the stronger, harder, steely muscle tearing more of the seam like a knife through butter. I felt the pressure around that shoulder relax and I grunted a lewd moan, feeling the sinew burst from its cloth prison. “Oh fuck yeah… growing…” I grunted. I turned to the mirror, bringing both my arms up displaying their new expanded form. As I gently flexed, more cracking was audible. I drank in my new form, whilst openly taking long stares at Nick, he seemed weaker by the second where as I was empowered. My skin seemed to glow with vitality, my features more masculine and edgy and my eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember, ever feeling this good. I think, looking back on it now, objectively, this would probably have been enough to address the power balance in the flat, to bring things back to an even keel, but something inside me had grown stronger too. I felt that “evens” wasn’t enough, I didn’t even wrestle with the desire, I simply gave into it, to the temptation to take more, to feel the power course through me again. I chugged some more protein shake and suggested some lateral raises. Nick for the first time, seemed almost defeated but agreed. I watched as we moved over to the smaller free weights. I watched Nick gingerly pick up the 8kg. “Shoulder injury…” he coughed, by way of an excuse for not using his normal weight. I watched as he began the exercise, his weakened musculature, struggling with the small weight. His arms shook and sweat seemed to pour out of him. I grabbed heavier weights and began exercising next to him. My eyes firmly locked onto the powerful body I barely recognised in the mirror, Nick looked on, watching striations burst out of my skin into prominence. Exhausted he let the weights hang by his side as I grabbed heavier ones. By now, I could feel others in the gym watch as my shoulders swelled and veins pulsed over the surface. I wracked the dumbells and brought my arms up into a flex. The swollen arms and shoulders, openly tearing the arms of my vest with audible cracks. “YEAH!” I roared, totally absorbed in this power, not caring how the transformation was affecting not just my body, my whole personality. On reflection, how many of us could be in this situation and not take it all, how many of us would turn down the opportunity to be elevated above others. Maybe, the old me could have turned back on it, but the testosterone tearing through my body, urged me on, pressing me to turn the knife in Nicks wound. At least, I tell myself it was that. Before I could pose again, Nick was gone. I glanced over to see him slip back into the changing rooms. I grinned, casually following him, sauntering through the gym, as other guys eyed my new form, probably the first time they’ve ever noticed me over my flatmate. In the changing rooms, Nick stripped and hurried into the shower. I could barely stop myself from grinning as my ruined workout shirt hung off my surging frame. I gently peeled the remains off, letting it drop to the floor as my chest caught my eye. Not only was it distended with muscle, but a fine coat of hair was now generously coating it, only adding to overstate the power and evolutional masculinity behind such a display. My thickened legs were swelling as I padded from foot to looking in the mirror, eagerly flexing my now bulgy and rounded biceps, the forearms crammed with veins and distended with a sickeningly thick spread. I chugged down the last of the precious shake. My eager guzzling causing the odd drip to land haphardly on my swollen pectoral shelf. Even as my left hand casually quested for it, I felt it absorb into my skin. It was like my body was adapting to Nick as a source of food. With my legs rolling over each other, I made for the shower. I knew Nick would want to once again try and put me in my place, with the only advantage he still had. I deliberately entered the shower, facing an opposite shower head to Nick. I felt the familiar surge within me, the change was coming, and this would be a big one. I knew Nick had his back to the shower head, as he always did, any excuse to show off his almighty package to anyone who would glance at it. I glanced out of the corner of my eye, his once proud muscle, softened, his hard look now distinctly puffier and flatter. His once thick neck, now looking thinner and less impressive. His typically rounded biceps looking more fusiform and slender. Yet, I was still aware his package had remained large. In his rush to get into the shower, he hadn’t appeared to notice the other changes to his body. “You think that I wouldn’t notice Sam?” He said suddenly, as I felt my back begin to furtively thicken. “Notice what bro…?” I asked innocently, turning halfway to face him. “You stealing my protein powder… It’s really good stuff bro, but I’ve hidden it now. I’m not sharing anymore with you, so enjoy the growth, because believe me, when I get back on it, I’m gonna make your life pure hell” He grinned at me his features malevolent. His hand reaching down and palming his thick, long piece of meat, grabbing the base, he gave it two quick tugs. If he registered that it didn’t seem as big, or as long as usual, his face didn’t reflect that. “However big you get, you’ll never be bigger than me where it really counts” He said laughing. But his laughter died away when I turned to face him. He drank in the image, watching, as my muscles seemed to bulge bigger. His mouth moved wordlessly as if trying to speak but unable. I felt the dragon roar up within me as power streamed through my body. I felt my legs lengthen, taking my growing profile in higher, I couldn’t believe how strong, how powerful I felt. “Alright fine…” I said finally, breaking the silence “But… I think you’ll find Nick… that I’m the one bigger where it counts and if I’m bigger, you have to suck it…” I continued Nick, his eyes darting between my chest, abs and, what was now a bigger than average flaccid cock. “Heh, I’m still bigger bro, you got yourself a deal. And if I’m bigger I guess that means you have to suck mine!” he grinned. “well… alright then…” I said feeling my growth slacken off again He began massaging his cock, it would have been impressive by anyone’s standards, of course, anyone that hadn’t seen Nick before this week. Now as I played with my own thicker, longer tool, it felt great as it engorged and grew hard as steel, the whole throbbing pole feel amazing in my hand, better than ever before. What I presume Nick used to feel. My bigger, swollen balls, pulsed with energy, my skin on fire. To my surprise, Nicks cock thickened obscenely, hanging lower and lower as he caressed it with a fist, soon it grew harder and began rising up, pointing straight at me. My sword rising to meet the opponent, like the calm before a joust or fencing tournament. He stepped forward, my eyes angled downward to meet his, I was growing taller. Again if he registered this, he chose to ignore it. Instead, he grabbed my big thickening pole and pulled me in closer toward him. But I grinned as I felt his purple, engorged cock head jab into my abdomen. My own cock, falling just a few millimetres short to do the same to him. I watched Nick return the smug, arrogant look plaster all over his face again. “Heh, you know, I’m gonna enjoy this…” he smiled, placing a hand on my thickened and bulging shoulder. I tried to look dismayed as I sank to my knees, the flexion making my quads bulge and distend. I’m not certain if Nick noticed much of what was happening, but glint in his eye suggested that somehow he was oblivious. I gazed upward, with as much of an innocent intent as I could muster, made all the easier as he gently slapped his cock against my mouth. I didn’t even have to time react as he bucked his now seemingly slender hips forward and penetrated my mouth with his thick organ. I concentrated on supressing my gap reflex and kneading the rigid shaft with the breadth of my tongue as he firmly handled the sides of my head for his own pleasure. As he thrust in, I could feel the last of the effects of the tainted protein shake start to slacken, but things were already accelerating toward my eventual victory as I watched Nick sneer, his legs buckle and toes curl. His insistent and powerful thrusting increased in intensity but weakened in power. I could take his cock more manageably in my mouth; I knew my grip on his legs strengthened as those very legs diminished. Then I felt it, before he knew about it, before even the tidal wave of his cum hit me. I felt the spark of power deep within me, grow hot and brighter with every passing second. I focussed on feeding that sensation and sucked hard on his cock and it felt like the dam burst within him as his cock pulsed and rope after rope of his thick white ejaculate launched into my mouth. I felt like I had the energy to run a marathon or move boulders, as I continued to suck hard on his organ. Within seconds, my thickened musculature began to grow again as I took everything Nick had to offer. I glanced up at Nick, his head back, totally gripped in pleasure, his eyes half closed. I watched as I saw his chest weaken, his abs lose definition, and his thighs lose the impressive thickness. I knew his cock was shrinking too as my mouth now held his whole length easily. I also knew exactly where it was going. On my knees, my now impressive slab of meat between my legs was hanging over a bigger pair of bull balls and grazing the wet tile beneath my legs, with every passing second, I felt it reel out and rest on the tile like a python. I couldn’t physically wait to see the new me, but I could feel myself growing larger and stronger by the second. The feeling was indescribable, save for the undeniable and unassailable power that coursed through every inch of my body. As pleasure washed over him, he placed a hand on my shoulder. I looked up, as he looked down, curious about the sheer size and breadth of the rugged, rock hard shelf he had gripped on to. As our eyes met, I licked the head of his cock clean and pulled the much shorter, dare I even say small, cock from my mouth and grinned up from the floor at him. He said nothing, as his eyes darted around my newly enhanced body. In a split second, his cock bucked and he came again, only managing two single ropes this time as it shot out and hit my chest. He watched as it absorbed into my skin and my pecs swelled even more freakishly than before. My shoulders widened and a involuntarily growl escaped my throat as I grew again. He fearfully stepped back, that’s when he noticed his transformation, in the opposite direction. “Whu- you… you took it?” “You gave it…” “No… I would never give it…” His voice sounding hollow and almost childlike “How…?” he ventured “I think it’s your protein, it’s nothing I’ve done” I said flatly I rose to my feet. I had grown so large, I put my final height at maybe 6’4, maybe more, my muscle, huge, thick, maybe 250/260lbs easily, eager and desperate to be used. I looked down at him, gone were the protuberances of his muscle, the towering, masculine height. His cock limp and shrunken. Despite this, his wolfish good looks remained, and the innocence in his face made his eyes sparkle even more. There was little more to say. He took one last look at what used to be his before turning and running. By the time I had gotten back to the flat that night, he was already gone. His stuff was mostly packed, he’d left most of his clothes, since they no longer fit him but he’d packed the important stuff. He left the weights and the bench. But I suspected that now they would be too light for me. I walked into the kitchen, not unhappy with my current situation. I wore only a pair of sweat pants, my big, muscled physique clearly on display, my obscene bulge displayed through the thick cotton fabric. I smiled as realised Nick left all his food, kitchen supplies and his vast array of supplements. But, on closer inspection, there was a gap above the refrigerator, my new vantage could show me that there was a footprint where something used to be. Nick had taken the experimental protein shake with him.
  25. MaxoVision Men

    Hey guys! Started this story a loooong time ago. Finally decided to finish it. It's weird and I like that. Hope you do to. To see more of my stuff (and to show your support!) please consider following my patreon: https://www.patreon.com/MuscleNexus. Enjoy! In a small dark room on the forty third story of MaxoVision Tower, Henry woke up. His asthmatic coughing echoed around the dorm as he pushed his wiry frame out of bed. His feet slapped on metallic flooring, instantly chilling him. He crossed his arms around his hairless torso as he approached the aluminum sink in the corner. He wetted his hand under the tap and smeared the number ‘3’ off his smudgy mirror. Without much attention to detail, Henry lifted his tube of toothpaste and made strokes to write a ‘4’ on the surface in its place. 24 days, that’s how long he had been in the dank little room, and he was no closer to finding out the reason for his imprisonment than the he was when he had first woken up there He rinsed the toothpaste resin from his hands and cupped them under the facet. He was jolted to alertness with the chill of water splashed onto his face. He regarded himself with a furrowed brow. He was 18, had just graduated from high school, and was looking forward to beginning university in the fall. His perfect grades had netted him a place in Harvard. All that had been dashed however, when he found himself in this mysterious dark dorm. Self proclaimedly, Henry was ‘one for books and not for looks.’ His body had been entirely nondescript when he was kidnapped. Kidnapped… “Is that what happened to me?” He wondered aloud. The past 23 days had not seen it change at all. He was provided consistent offerings of food from a slit under the door that seemed to keep his weight at exactly the same spot. While his weight remained the same, he did notice one odd change. He pulled at his side and his skin stretched miraculously far before snapping back into its original position. Henry frowned once again, he had never heard of any disease that could do this to someone, but he was pretty sure it was not a sign of good health. At any rate, it didn’t actually change his appearance and didn’t bother him for any other reason than its oddness. A loud and deep grunt echoed through the hallway beyond Henry’s metal door. He gulped. There was something else that was unusual about this place. He lived with giants. Once a day for the past 23 days, his door had swung open, and Henry was forced to leave and hide, or be found by one of the hulking beasts that roamed the dimly lit corridors of his prison. So far, he had been successful. He knew that there were others like him in there, normal people. He heard their yells and cries of fear when the doors were unlocked and the beasts were allowed to roam free. He had also known one for a brief ten minute before he was taken by one of the creatures. He had only captured glimpses and glances at the creatures that terrorized him for one hour during the day. He was able to evade them, but if they couldn’t see them, he couldn’t see them. Hiding was key because they could any normal man and take him in an instant if they wanted to, and that seemed to be all the mindless things wanted… He had always been able to make it back into his room shortly after the warning bell that announced that their doors could once again be shut and locked. But there had been one close call… On one of his first days in the mysterious institution (what else could it be called), Henry allowed fear to overtake him and sprinted for his door after hearing the warning chime. His light but loud footsteps had attracted the attention of one of the beasts, bringing it around the corner to come face to face with Henry just as he was turning into his room. He heard it and smelt it before he saw it. Great slapping thuds of footsteps that instantly struck panic into Henry’s heart. And the smell of sweat and musk, overpowering to the point where Henry felt lightheaded and nauseous. He only had about two second to observe the charging creature before he lept into his room and slammed the door. Those two second were all he needed. It looked like a half-naked man, but muscled beyond compare. Henry had time to register thickly corded legs that pumped their way ever closer to him and two globular and hairy pecs heaving in the dark. Henry’s last view before slamming the door was a comically broad stubbled jaw and empty, hungry eyes. Henry vaguely knew what happened if they caught you. He had seen it happen to another unlucky runner. The man had been outrun by one of the creatures. The beast had pinned him down and positioned his massive tool over the small man’s ass. Henry didn’t have time to see the rest, but he saw the results days later in the halls. His friend had become another mindless creature, a fate that was almost more terrifying than death to Henry. “Brraahhhh!” The chimes echoed as his door clanged open. Henry was immediately roused from his memories by the roar of the creatures in the dark. He knew he couldn’t stay in his room long, so he slipped into the dark along his regular route. 23 days later and his feeling of horror still hadn’t subsided from the situation. He inched along, wall to wall. Listening intently for the sign of laboured breathing and heavy footsteps. His heart lurched as he turned a corner and spied one of the men’s mammoth backs, glistening with sweat, lurching through the darkness in the distance before darkness shrouded it from sight. Henry counted to ten before slowly turning to go in the opposite direction. Ten minutes later and there was no sight or sound of the creature, and Henry was beginning to relax. He was nearing his door and he knew the chimes would sound soon. As if on cue, the loud buzz filled the hallways and then left Henry in silence once again. He quickened his pace as his door came into view. And then, his worst fears were realized. One of the muscle creatures appeared out of the darkness opposite him, and infront of his door. He could see its intense gaze and tensing muscles as it prepared to charge. Henry broke into a sprint towards the creature and his door. “Damn!” He thought. The beast smiled in the dark as he watched his prey barrel towards him! Henry’s mind raced as he evaluated his options. Turning around and running wasn’t an option, he’d be caught. He just needed to get to his door. He held his breath and braced as he neared the incoming wall of muscle at breakneck speed. At the last second he dropped down to the ground in a skid as two vein-corded arms swiped the air inches above his head. He could smell the beast as he passed underneath it, his nostrils filled with the thing’s musk. Henry skidded into his room and turned to see the door slide shut and then an impossibly loud thump as the creature slammed into it. He grimaced as the creature roared in frustration. Propping himself against the door, henry shut his eyes and let out ragged gasps, he was safe. He waited a moment to catch his breath and calm his beating heart. There had been at least a minute of silence. He opened his eyes and groaned at the site of his crotch. He was sporting a modest tent in the black briefs that he had found himself in 24 days before. This wasn’t unusual, running in the hallways was the only time that he really did anything physical, and well, he was 18. Henry always felt disgusted with himself for his body’s untimely urges, it reminded him too much of the hungry things outside his door. Nonetheless, he realized he would be done with that business sooner if he just dealt with it then and there. He fished his modest cock out of the briefs and began stroking. The wave of pleasure was immediate and intense. He gasped as a small stream of precum erupted from his swollen manhood. He used the extra lubrication to begin stroking faster, his dick felt hard and sensitive. He unconsciously brought his hand to his sweat drenched chest and began rubbing. He looked down at himself. His daily escapades in the hallways had done him well, the two modest pecs and the hint of abs that he sported now were more muscle than he had ever achieved before. His legs showed the same amount of development, decent quads jutted to the sides above thick diamond calves. Henry groaned as he stroked. He no longer wanted to just get it over with, he couldn’t remember the last time he was so turned on! He instinctively wiped the sweat away from his lips and roughly stubbled jaw with a hairy forearm. His mind only had a second to be confused by the odd appearance of hair on his forearms and stubble on his jaw when he realized that he had wiped more than sweat away from this face. He stood up to look at his pale and sweaty reflection in the mirror. A line of gooey liquid ran across his face as well as over and in his mouth. His eyes widened in renewed horror. Had the creature leaked precum on him? In him? Would that be enough to turn him into… Panic welled in Henry’s tightening chest. He rubbed it instinctively, barely noticing the appearance of soft hair on it. A new form of lust gripped him as he cupped a meaty pec in his hand. He began squeezing the muscle and flexing it. Squeezing and flexing. Squeezing and flexing… He broke his gaze from the blurry growing image in the mirror to look down at his body. It almost looked the same as it had that morning. A little more muscle, a little more hair, but certainly nothing like the hairy behemoths that chased him in the halls. Henry shook his head and took a few small gulps of air, reassuring himself that he wasn’t actually growing. Feeling ridiculous, he pulled the briefs back on and sank onto his bed. He stared at the ceiling and listened to the muffled noises coming from outside his room. That night Henry dreamt of hallways, running, and muscle. Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of a bloated, veiny quad or ham-like forearms swinging into view. His? The next morning Henry tossed himself out of bed immediately after waking. He took a few resolute steps to the mirror and studied his reflection. A breathe of relief escaped his lips-he hadn’t changed. Henry plopped back on his bed and waited for the alarm that would signal another day running from beasts. Henry started from the scrape of his food tray sliding across the concrete. He realized he wasn’t very hungry. He felt his belly and thought he was bloated even. The thought of more food made him grimace so he pushed it back through the slot. Nobody seemed to care that he wasn’t going to eat, so he continued to wait for the alarm. He estimated only half an hour until go time… He listened as his stomach gurgled away. He was feeling fuller and fuller by the minute. “Ugh,” he groaned. He sat up and sighed, the uncomfortable feeling wasn’t going anywhere. “How am I supposed to run like this?” He thought. His brow ruffled in concern as the tightness around his abdomen worsened. ‘Riiiiip.’ Henry gasped as he felt his shirt give way. He looked down at a hairy, blocky gut. The sight was totally foreign to him. “What…” Was all he was able to mumble before more of his body was wracked with more cramps. He doubled down onto the floor, letting his palms and new-grown belly slap onto the cold concrete. “Urgh.” He could feel beads of sweat rolling down his face and the back of his neck. He watched in panic as they splashed on the concrete. Horror gripped him as he began to suspect the worst. Glancing to his left he noticed veins practically pulsing on the back of his hand, and rising up his sweat-slicked arm… “Oh god,” he breathed as he stared at his arm. His gaze rose along a bulging ham-like forearm, to a hose sized bicep vein, and then to a mass of vascular skin and muscle that was his biceps and triceps. “No no no no no,” he mumbled to himself, the syllables coming out deeper than he intended. It was becoming harder to think. He pushed himself over onto his back and lay panting at the ceiling. He desperately pawed at his shifting body. His widening hands gripped even wider pecs. He could feel a new covering of sweat-matted hair and the crevice in the middle of his chest becoming deeper. He felt the weight of his pecs pulling to each side of his body as the muscle seemed to pile on quicker and quicker. He let his massive hands fall down to his abdomen. The hairy gut was still there, but now it was textured with blocks of hard muscle. His thickening fingers (they would never be able to use a smartphone properly again) fell in and out of the trenches of his abs. Henry groaned with resignation for what he was becoming as his hands felt striated quads under the straining fabric of his briefs. He used his overdeveloped abs to prop himself into a crunch. His eyes widened with wonder and horror as he watched his lower body transform. The briefs stretched to translucency as his quads sweeped ever wider. He noticed his vantage point rising as his ass grew thick with muscle. He gingerly traced his now brutish fingers along the veins that webbed his thighs. His calves were covered in dark hairs that were slicked down with sweat, allowing criss crossing veins to be visible under the fur. Like his hands, Henry’s feet were stretching and thickening, becoming practically beast-like. He grimaced and began to groan as the briefs became overloaded with muscle and, he noticed, a rapidly growing package as well. “Urrgggghhhhhhhh,” he groaned deeply. The groan turned into a gravely growl, and then a full-blown roar when the briefs finally gave way as monstrous quads, dick, and balls spilled out. Henry was cemented in place on the ground as all human thoughts receded forever. He sniffed the room, smelling the musk baking off his body. An alarm rang out and he tossed his bulk onto his monstrous feet. The beast’s hairy, gargantuan body met a gust of cool air as the door slid open. He sniffed once. Twice. And then lumbered into the labyrinthine hallways. Every now and then he would catch a glimpse of a bloated, veiny quad or ham-like forearms swinging into view. His. The beast stopped. Did he hear a footstep? He grunted and swung his head to see a tiny man at the end of the hall. The beast didn’t recognize the man’s fear, he only smelled his sweat and felt lust swell through his own body. He began walking towards the petrified man, and then broke into a lumbering run. With meaty slaps echoing in the hallway, the smaller man’s hesitation was broken and he dove away from the incoming behemoth. He cringed from a thunderous crash, a roar, and what sounded like falling debris. He looked to his side to see a hole in the wall with bright light streaming out. “Fuck that,” he thought before splitting off into the darkness of the hallways. The beast looked out into a vast white nothingness. As his eyes adjusted to the hot glare of a morning sun, he began to make out the vision of a sprawling cityscape. He rose to his feet, letting pieces of plaster slide off his body. A blur of motion caught his eye as drones laden with video cameras twirled and swooped in front of his vision. Henry resurfaced long enough to know where he was. The beast hung his head and pounded softly on the glass with meaty fists. He was in Tokyo, and the newest member of MaxoVision’s infamous transformed pornstars. A billboard floated past his window confirming his thought, ‘The company that brings you the porn of the future, MaxoVision!’ Find more stories like this and other muscle growth art on my Patreon page.
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